Things seen in Morocco: being a bundle of jottings, notes, impressions, tales, and tributes

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID

THINGS SEEN IN MOROCCO

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

The Atheneeum of 6th December 1902 :

" It is hardly too much to say that Mr Dawson's latest story does for the
Moors what Morier's Hajji Baba did for the Persians. At anyrate we find
here what few books in the world, and certainly no other work of fiction in
English, can boast of a deep and accurate knowledge of Moorish life,
manners, and ways of thinking. . . . Such intimate knowledge is rarely
combined with the skill to impart and the imagination to vivify it. Mr
Dawson has both. . . . Indeed the Oriental atmosphere is rendered so
admirably that future translators of the Arabian Nights could scarcely
choose a better model."

DANIEL WHYTE

JOSEPH KHASSAN : HALF-CASTE

HIDDEN MANNA

AFRICAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENT

BISMILLAH

THE STORY OF RONALD KESTREL
IN THE BIGHT OF BENIN
GOD'S FOUNDLING

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO: MOULAI AHI) KL AZIZ IV

THINGS SEEN IN
MOROCCO

BEING A BUNDLE OF JOTTINGS, NOTES, IMPRESSIONS,
TALES, AND TRIBUTES

BY

A. J. DAWSON

WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS

METHUEN & CO.

36 ESSEX STREET W.C.

LONDON

1904

TO

SIR ARTHUR NICOLSON, BART.
K.C.B.,K.C.I.E., C.M.G.,

HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY'S ENVOY-EXTRAORDINARY

AND MINISTER-PLENIPOTENTIARY IN MOROCCO,

THESE NOTES AND SKETCHES FROM

MOROCCO ARE DEDICATED, WITH

ASSURANCES OF THE AUTHOR'S

SINCERE APPRECIATION, GRATITUDE

AND RESPECT

Vll

CONTENTS

PAGE

B'fsM ILLAH ! .... i

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION n

EAST AND WEST 27

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 35

UNDER THE PARASOL . . 53

THE BEACHCOMBERS . 63

UNDER THE RED FLAG . 90

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH . . .95

BELOW THE SALT . . . . 113

THE PALM OIL CURSE 117

BELOW THE SURFACE 121

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 128

His EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 146

THE SHEIKH AND THE GREAT NORTHERN . . .163
THE ROYAL NAVY OF MOROCCO . . . .179

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP 186

THE OPEN ROAD 194

! A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 229

MOROCCO, THE MOORS AND THE POWERS . . 245

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 275

THE DIPLOMATIC CORPS IN MOROCCO .... 292

| THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO, . .299

I THE MOORISH PRETENDER, . . . 306

; THE PRESENT SITUATION, . . . . . -317

ACHMET'S CHARM 334

n/i

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The Sultan of Morocco, Moulai Abd el Aziz IV. . Frontispiece

Within a Few Hours' Journey of Gibraltar Tangier

from the Bay . . . To face page n

The Main Street of Tangier 39

The Entrance to a Palace Garden in Marrakish . 68

At the City Gates Marrakish . . . 81

Where the Basha of Tangier holds his Court . 103

The Moorish Soldier from Life : an Elderly but

Average Specimen . . ,,132

The Moorish Soldier as Depicted by an Artist

of the Nazarenes . ,,132

Wayside Entertainers in Morocco A Very Old

Hand at the Gimbri . . . 161

Food ... 195

Prayer . . 195

A Fountain near " That Far-off Court " at Marrakish 207

Town-gate Idlers Al Ksar el Kebeer , . 226

The White Roofs of the First and Last Town seen

by the Visitor to Morocco Tangier . . ,, 250

Kaid Meheddi el Mennebhi ex-Minister of War

and Favourite Wazeer . . . ,,299

The Rogui's Letter . . . . ,,314

The Author in Moorish Guise 350

XI

B'lSM ILLAH!

ONE has read of an age of exquisites ; it is not
the age we live in. Ours is the day of the
specialist. Less pleasing, you say? And that is
quite possible. More widely informed, however, one
may suppose, if not more really understanding. One
thing your exquisites and specialists seem to have in
common. It is a good thing, but, like every other
flower in the garden of our life, it is not without its
own peculiar thorns. They are all for form and detail,
these tremendously able fellows, and, peering so far
beneath the surface in their own especial claims, they
are apt to miss the general contour of hill and
valley round and about them. The painting is a big
affair, but, by your leave, the picture is a bigger.
"Workmanship, give us perfect workmanship on
perfectly prepared backgrounds, and hang the
ensemble / " Your specialist is rather apt to get like
that. Which is really a pity, for, as we ignorant
outsiders would point out, the finished presentment is,
after all, the end and aim of even the most perfect
craftsmanship. The experts forget that, and are given
to sniffing if reminded by the contemplative Philistine.
One of the results is that many authors can take no
pleasure in the printed page, few painters can be happy
in a picture-gallery, and the majority of musicians avoid
concerts as they would the plague or a barrel-organ.

2 MOROCCO

Scientific exactitude is a fine thing, in science. But
depend on it, Mr Gradgrind missed the choicest
flavours, the richest morsels in life's feast.

Moghreb al-Acksa, the country we call Morocco,
is a land of phantasy which has eluded the all-
apportioning specialist as successfully as it has evaded
the outstretched, forthright hand of European civilisa-
tion, the coaxing digits of Exeter Hall, the solemn,
record-gleaning studies of tape and camera-armed
would-be historians, and the levelling, empire-building
tactics of Christian statesmen.

The Richard Burtons of this life are not numerous ;
they scarcely belong to an age of specialists. Mr
Cunninghame Graham deserves well of his readers,
by token that he has been too wise to attempt scientific
exploitation, or historical portrayal, of Sunset Land,
and too keen of vision to miss its essential beauty.
Another modern writer has made the attempt, and
England is in his debt for a prodigious, a really wonder-
ful budget of very useful facts and figures in connection
with the Land of the Moors. But for flesh and blood
pictures thereof eheu ! As well might one delve in
Buckle's Civilization for the spirit and essence of the
Arthurian legends.

To be sure, the much-besmirched artist tempera-
ment is, one must suppose, an essential qualification
for the right presentation of pictures, in prose or
poetry, music or painting, and lacking it no armament
of knowledge, however elaborate, will serve. But
even granted the requisite gift of artistry, there is
danger in the specialising tendency and a certain
barrenness which comes with the prolonged pursuit
of exactitude and laboriously-finished completeness.
Compare Browning's Englishman in Italy with his

MOROCCO 3

Italian in England. Both are good, but when
compared, how generously vivid and instantly pictorial
is the first, and how palely inadequate the second !
Certain kinds of knowledge do positively hamper
artistic intuition, and for a mental view of some
beautiful foreign place which I desired to possess and
carry in my heart to look at during foggy afternoons
in London a picture, in fine I would go, from
choice, to a man of art fresh from spending his first
week in that particular spot. For commercial intelli-
gence there are the consular reports. Baedeker and
Whittaker, each in his walk, is admirably useful. For
historical records and exact information turn we to
the historians, and, if possible, to those among them
who lived in the place of which they wrote. For my
picture, my live, warm picture, give me a quiet half-
hour with that man of art (painter and writer both, if
I am to be given perfection) whose mind still tingles
and glows from the vividness of its first fleeting im-
pact with its subject. When he has spent years in
the land, and become an authority, he is above
noticing the tints I want preserved ; he knows too
much of the internal complexities to condescend to
the drawing of the very outlines my mind's eye
demands. And if the foreign place be any such weird,
elusive and mysterious land as Morocco, then I know
he will present me with an admirable sketch of its
rugged body corporate, and leave me entirely lack-
ing where its strange spirit and essence, the cloudy
fascination that is Morocco, is concerned.

Oh, those first impressions, their heart-throbbing
intensity, their wet-eyed distinctness ; never to be
forgotten, rarely recorded, yet more rarely actually
conveyed to others ! It is grievous that man, bustling

4 MOROCCO

on in the vulgar race for facts classified bones
should brush aside, lose and ignore the living beauty
of these early visions which, in the dazzling actuality
of their colouring, the outstanding vividness of their
lines, partake of the supernatural, of something per-
taining to a Fourth Dimension.

But there are commonplace books, you say. Yes.
But do those who fill them see visions ? Or are the
impressions, thus neatly stored and laid away, for the
most part like their pigeon-hole, commonplace?
B'ism Illah!

And I who write these lines am forced to
admit here that I have read some books which
purported to deal with Morocco and were written
soon enough in all conscience after the author's
first glimpses of the country, from hotel windows
and the like. And they were wildly bad, those
books, madly, stupidly and everything else short
of humorously bad, for the reason that they con-
veyed nothing ; certainly not atmosphere, assuredly
not facts. I hold no brief for ignorance, God wot
(unless it be my own), but I will say that it was not
alone the writers' ignorance of their subject that made
these books worthless ; it was not that they had not
seen enough of Morocco ; it was that they had seen
nothing, and never would, lacking, it seemed, the
vision that shows men life with sufficient vividness to
enable them to convey the same upon the written
page. There was another book the most vivid it
may be that ever had Morocco for its subject a book
that truly gave one the hot, mysterious atmosphere of
the country, and that book did but tell the story of
a failure, of an unsuccessfully-attempted journey of
not the slightest importance. In the letter it was

MOROCCO 5

sufficiently inaccurate in places, for its writer was no
old traveller or established authority on Morocco ;
but as I live that book contained more of the essential
spirit of Sunset Land than do the score of standard
tomes on the subject which face me as I write. It
was called, as Moors call the country, Moghreb al-
Acksa.

Sensible traders, however, do not decry their own
wares, but rather extol these, belittling only the
oddments which they are unable to stock. First
impressions are as flashingly elusive as summer
lightning. Men and women of to-day are mostly
sensible traders.

" Rafael made a century of sonnets.

You and I would rather read that volume

(Taken to his beating bosom by it),
Lean and list the bosom-beats of Rafael,
Would we not ? than wonder at Madonnas.

Dante once prepared to paint an angel :
Whom to please? You whisper 'Beatrice.'

You and I would rather see that angel,
Painted by the tenderness of Dante,
Would we not ? than read a fresh Inferno"

Asked to give a name to that characteristic of
Morocco which most clearly distinguishes it from
other semi-savage lands, a well-known traveller, quite
fairly, if uninformingly, replied, " Its distinctiveness."
Its inherent impressionistic force does distinguish the
Land of the Afternoon. Its power of vividly and
instantly impressing its image upon a receptive and
understanding mind is very remarkable. The
Eastern traveller would be apt to curl his travelled
lip if he heard a man speak of the Eastern picturesque-

6 MOROCCO

ness of Morocco. He would be wrong. There again,
a man would have been misled by the too eager
pursuit of special knowledge. There is as much of
the storied East in Morocco of to-day as you shall
find in the whole of British India. There is more,
far more, that is essentially Oriental about country
life and travel in the foot-hills of the Atlas than the
inquiring globe-trotter will ever discover between
Point de Galle and Kandahar.

That is it. In Morocco there is very much of the
essential, the undisturbed fibre, the uninfluenced
spirit of place and of people. It is Moghreb al-
Acksa, the extreme north-west ; it is nearer to Pall
Mall than is any other point in the Orient. And it
is farther, ay, immeasurably farther, in every other
sense of the word than the geographical specialist's,
as any man who knows both India and Pall Mall
may be made to feel by journeying due south from
his hotel in Gibraltar for, say, one week.

And this distinguishing feature of Morocco, whilst
sufficiently remarkable, is not so surprising as at
first blush it may appear.

A thousand years before Christ, Hanno graved
upon a stone, in the temple of Saturn at Carthage,
some account of his adventure to the beyond-land,
past the Pillars of Hercules, with sixty galleys of
fifty oars each. The records of the twentieth century
after Christ contain no suggestion that any change
has crept over the province of Sus or the manner of
those that dwell therein since Hanno's venturesome
outsetting. A thousand years after Hanno's voyage
Procopius Csesarea wrote that two white pillars of
stone stood beside a spring near Tangier, and that
upon them he read inscribed, in Phoenician script,

MOROCCO 7

these words : " We have fled before the face of
Joshua the robber, son of Nun." Within twenty years
of Annus Hegirae the Arabs, pouring through the
Nile delta like ants, had reached the extreme north-
west. There they were held awhile in check by the
original occupants, the present people of the hills,
who then were bitterly and savagely resenting the
proximity of Roman influence, as the other day
they were resenting the intrusion of Major Spillbury
of the Globe Venture Syndicate. But the Arabs
brought craft to bear upon the hardy, irreconcilable
Berbers. It was not, "We desire your lands for
ourselves," but rather, " Permit us to assist you in
removing the accursed infidel from your neigh-
bourhood ! "

Directed by Arab skill, Berber strength did snap
the Roman yoke ; only to discover, within a score of
years, that the existence of the Berbers as an inde-
pendent nation was gone for ever. As a nation.
But to this day they have preserved themselves, their
mountain homes, their language, their hardy customs
and savage methods, absolutely and entirely intact,
as any Christian (who rates his life lightly) may
discover for himself by stepping across their frontiers
say a fortnight's journey from London.

For thirteen hundred years, then, the descendants
of Mohammed's followers, ruled always (nominally
if not actually) by Shareefs, whose sway over their
subjects has rested solely upon their assumed descent
from members of the Prophet's family, have occupied
Morocco, or Mauretania, as its Roman invaders named
it. Its history has been a chequered one, blood-
stained for the most part, barbarous always, accord-
ing to Christian standards, and distinguished by an

MOROCCO

invincible conservatism. By force of Berber endur-
ance and Arab craft and daring, the Moors conquered
and occupied Spain, and terrorised Europe right
down to the beginning of the nineteenth century, at
which late day tributes reached Moorish coffers each
year from all the principal European centres, by way
of bribes to ensure against piracy and the capture and
enslavement of European travellers and sailors.
During the past century the decadence of the Moorish
nation and people has been undeviating and all-
embracing. And now the day of Morocco's final
disintegration is undoubtedly at hand ; she has truly
earned her pathetic name of Sunset Land. Across
her south-eastern boundary the perfectly-equipped
armies of a great European power lie waiting
(occasionally urging) the fall of the over-ripe fruit.
Germany has made every preparation to reap com-
mercial benefit by this last act of an Empire. Britain,
once the holder of the most valuable strategic vantage
point in Morocco, if not in the whole of North Africa,
exhibits all the signs of truly British aloofness, or
indifference ; whilst it must be admitted her hands
are very fully occupied in other parts of Africa and
elsewhere. The end is near. It may be next year,
or it may be next decade ; but the end is near, and
the Sick Man of Africa will never rise from the
couch of his decline.

So much for the political maze, the seductive
quagmire of prophecy. Remains the fact that, up to
the present, the realm of which Abd el Aziz IV., by
Allah's mercy, is the ceremonial head, the infinitely
bewildered sovereign, continues the only independent
and unexploited state in the whole of Northern
Africa. Curiously, it is also the only portion of the

MOROCCO 9

continent that is within range of the naked eye from
Europe, and practically within modern big gun range.
Traces of its influence are writ large over southern
Europe. Itself remains most singularly impervious to
any sort of outside influence. Its life to-day, within
a few hours' journey of British Gibraltar, with its
parochialism and its twentieth-century scientific
appliances, is an exact replica of the life of which one
reads in Genesis. Historians aver that the Berbers
are the descendants of those who gave place to the
children of Israel in Canaan. Granting this, and that
Scripture presents a faithful picture of the lives and
customs of those Canaanites, it is not less than
marvellous that one should be able to see that picture,
unchanged and in the living, within a few miles of
Europe, and in the twentieth century.

It is this marvel, principally, and kindred features
of Morocco's sphinx-like face, which give it its
distinction among Oriental countries ; its wonderful
impressiveness, its instant power to burn an indelible
picture into the mind of an open-eyed traveller, subtly,
with a force and power of fascination which may not
be denied.

" Quite vulgar souls are made to feel it," said a
Morocco traveller to the present writer last year.
" It bewilders them. They don't understand, of
course, but m'sha Allah ! they come back to it as
certain sure as dates have stones. Did you hear of
the beginning of things here with Phillip Frobisher,
the Manchester man? Not that he was a vulgar
soul. But his soul had mostly lived in a rather vulgar
sort of body."

I had not heard, so I said nothing, but listened, for
j my informant was a man to be listened to where Al

10 MOROCCO

Moghreb is concerned. No rule of record " authority "
he, but a man who has sought the strange, savage
spirit of the land, and wooed Morocco in her most
hidden places. So, too, I give the story here for
what it is worth, by way of illustration, and without
any pretence at apology. What can't be endured
must be skipped, say the cynical specialists of
criticism.

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION

AT the time of the story Phillip Frobisher had
just ceased to be "young Mr Phillip," or
" Phillip Frobisher, Junior," and had attained the solid
dignity of " Mr Phillip Frobisher of Messrs Frobisher
Bros.," the well-known Manchester spinning firm. His
Spanish-born mother, a landscape painter whose work
had brought her credit in Paris and London, he had lost
during childhood. The grave, shrewd, self-contained
father, whose recent death had made of Phillip a full
partner in the business, had systematically and con-
sistently schooled his only son in the traditions of the
" house." Phillip Frobisher had been brought up
not so much as an independent human entity as
a future partner in Frobisher Bros. The other
two members of the firm were slightly reduced re-
productions, rather paler in tone than the original, of
Phillip's father.

Phillip was a tall, personable fellow, grave like
his father, rather less shrewd and more sanguine,
darker of skin, and more smooth and fleshy in outline,
but otherwise the same solid, steady-gaited, level-
headed sort of person. Any display of emotion had
been impossible in the presence of the father. Phillip
had grown up without inclination toward this or any
other sort of display. The traditions of the house did
not demand such things. They demanded calm,
grave, courteous concentration during business hours,

ii

12 MOROCCO

and sober, decent restfulness, with study of the
Economist, at other seasons. Lunching or dining
with a member of the firm was not an undertaking to
enter upon carelessly, or with a mind frivolously
unprepared. You might be sure of excellent food
and sound wines ; but the whole thing was rather
suggestive of a Cabinet Council or a whist-party of
early Victorian days. And now, at twenty-eight,
prosperous Phillip Frobisher had no conception of
any less solid, four-square attitude in life than this.

The death of his father, after three weeks of
uneventful illness, rather disturbed the young man.
It was an out-of-the-ordinary sort of happening to
which routine arrangements did not apply. Phillip
found concentration of his thoughts at the office a
matter less simple and natural than usual. He even
dreamed of a night more than once, and each time of
the dark-faced, alert-looking mother, whose portrait,
showing her at work before an easel, faced his father's
in the vandyke-brown dining-room of their sub-
stantial Manchester home.

"The boy had better take a change," said
Thomas to Samuel Frobisher, as one might recom-
mend a dose of Gregory's powder for a child.
" Why not let him arrange this transfer of agents
in Morocco for us? A fortnight in Tangier and a
fortnight's travelling would set him up."

So it was decided, with grave thought for the
young man's physical welfare and an eye to the firm's
interests. And as to Kismet (Destiny, Fate, or
what do you call it ? ), Frobisher Brothers were far
too business-like to waste consideration upon such
intangibilities. And so Phillip Frobisher, wearing
the tall hat and frock coat of his daily life, started

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 13

from Liverpool aboard a Papayanni boat bound for
Tangier, and his Uncle Samuel, much preoccupied
with a sleek note-book and final instructions, was
there to bid his nephew bon voyage.

Now, as Kismet, or what you may call it, decided,
the Papayanni boat called at Cadiz on her way out,
and, in order that engineers might doctor some small
flaw in her machinery, remained there for three days.
Phillip Frobisher left her side in a boat manned by
swarthy, swearing, laughing rascals, natives of the
port, and proceeded, clad in sober morning coat and
bowler hat, to present a letter of recommendation to
a distant connection of his own on his mother's side
of the family. It was intended that he should have
made a week-end trip from Tangier for this purpose,
but the gods who direct the affairs of Manchester
business gentlemen, advised possibly by those of the
scented South, disposed matters otherwise. The
Southern gods are incorrigibly romantic and
dramatic theatrical if you will. Their climate
justifies, nay, demands, a certain measure of what
Northerners might call gaudiness. Phillip landed
then at one of the wickedest ports in Spain.

The Custom-house officials annoyed the Man-
chester man a good deal. Their attitude toward
porters and passengers struck him as undignified,
unbusiness-like, almost indecent. From shrill vi-
tuperation and pictorial blasphemy to exaggerated
bows, suave phrases and hat raising and back
again within a few minutes ; this sort of thing
embarrassed Mr Frobisher, and left him uncertain as
to whether mutely raising two stiff fingers to the brim
of one's bowler hat were not too effusive a response
to the bare-headed, hand-upon-heart, low bow of

14 MOROCCO

an ornately gilded, white-gloved superintendent.
" They are wanting in method and in sense of pro-
portion," he thought, as he named his destination,
with laborious incorrectness, to a be-sashed and be-
scarred pirate, who drove a typical bull-ring nag
in a carriage which apparently was held together by
fragments of palmetto cord and sardine boxes.

The Englishman's Spanish relative was not in
Cadiz, but that worthy's twenty-year-old son was;
as dapper and world-worn a personification of latter-
day Spanish decadence as a man might wish to see.
Juan Guiterrez was the young man's name, his
manners were delightful, his English fair, and his
inmost feeling toward Phillip Frobisher that of an
elderly and blase satyr good-humouredly bent upon
hospitality toward some innocent lout of a school-
boy. His own idea of his attitude was that it was
that of an accomplished man of the world, a gallant,
bound by courtesy to the initiation and entertain-
ment of a singularly gauche and woolly Boeotian.
Frobisher's view of Guiterrez, on the other hand,
was that the young gentleman was a graceful and
plausible youth, well-intentioned but unnecessarily
deferential, and too showily attired. From stand-
points so antithetical to our own do others see
us. As a fact, Juan was not at all a bad fellow
as young men go. But his workaday code of
morality, had he given it words, would have rendered
any respectable Briton speechless from excess of
horror, by reason that it was a little less restrained
than the code the Briton keeps for actual use, and a
violent outrage upon that which we preserve as an
ornament and for the judging of our neighbours.

But, judged by any standards you choose, Cadiz

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 15

is rather a wicked city, and not over-picturesque,
when you compare it with other Spanish towns of
similar importance. That, however, was the very
thing that our Manchester man could not manage.
He could not compare, and so his picture lacked
perspective.

After dinner, Guiterrez steered his guest among
the cafes, places of casual entertainment, in which
the very air was heady and redolent of the full-
bodied wines of Andalusia and of picadura smoke, and
alive with sibilant sounds of gossip in a musical
tongue. They supped gaily, though frugally, in one
among a score of brightly-painted cubicles, at a vault-
like restaurant, walled in by generous barrels of wine.
And, after the meal, a word from world -worn
Guiterrez brought a nut-coloured lady of the
establishment, who for the delectation of the pair
danced three separate measures upon the little table
at which they sat. Frobisher maintained his gravity
and his reserve until the lady flung him her over-
scented handkerchief, with an ogle pronounced
enough to have moved mountains. Then he lost
both, remembered the traditions of the Manchester
house, and insisted upon a swift, undignified adjourn-
ment. Guiterrez shrugged his^ graceful shoulders,
that in the senorita's eyes he might be disassociated
from his crude companion, and shortly afterwards
they parted for the night.

Despite much bewilderment and a good deal of
such small embarrassment as that described, Phillip
Frobisher was enjoying himself, unaccountably.
The last word represents his own view of his enjoy-
ment. A daylight visit, picnic fashion, to a vinedo
upon the Jerez road, that was owned by a member

16 MOROCCO

of the Guiterrez family, was endured by Juan some-
what more gracefully than a 'Varsity undergraduate
might suffer a Methodist tea-meeting, and was unre-
servedly enjoyed by Frobisher. Withal it was by
way of being a revelation to him a revelation which
did not jar.

It may be that his three days in Spain planted no
new growth in the mind of Phillip Frobisher. It is a
fact that the experience, as it were, ploughed and
harrowed the fallow mind of the Manchester man, leav-
ing it porous, and open to the seed of impressionism as
it had never been before. It did not furnish him with
new desires and a fresh outlook upon life, but it stirred
into sentient being all kinds of rudimentary unsus-
pected attributes of his nature, and stretched and
loosened into pliancy the trim and rigid loopholes of
his schooled vision. He heard his dead artist
mother lovingly spoken of by these her warm-
blooded compatriots. Somewhere in the red centre
of his calmly pulsing veins the blood of the mother
that bore him may have stirred faintly. He was an
open-eyed, almost impressionable, man of business
who landed in Tangier a few days later from the
Papayanni boat.

But in Tangier business awaited the man from
Manchester, and, his traditions rallying about him, he
concentrated his mind exclusively upon that business
until it was finished. A holiday task it was the
partners had chosen for him, and thirty-six hours
after landing Phillip Frobisher signed the necessary
papers, made the necessary terse, grave report for
Manchester, posted it, and turned about to open his
new-ploughed mind to Tangier to Morocco he
would have said, unaware as yet that Christian-

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 17

ridden, infidel-polluted Tangier, biblically Eastern as is
its every aspect, is yet one of the few spots in Sunset
Land which to the end of the chapter must remain
anathema to every true Moor.

Exactly what curious process then set to work in
the mind and heart of Phillip Frobisher must needs
remain a secret between the man and whatever god
or gods became his. Possibly the said god or gods
alone know. The rest of us can no more than follow
the outward and visible signs, drawing therefrom
whatsoever conclusions our particular gods may incline
us to. I am going to tell you simply what Phillip
Frobisher told my friend, upon a certain moonlight
night, sitting beside a tent's mouth near a village
called El Mousa, in the Gharb, just seven months
after he landed in Morocco. He was squatting on a
mattress at the time. His beard was six inches long,
his head shaven, his skin tanned to a rich saddle-
brown, and his dress, to the very drawers, kaftan,
yellow riding-boots, and white Wazanni djellab, that
of a Moor of the richer sort. Upon his right lounged
Yusef Seydic, the Syrian who lived with him, at first
(as interpreter, and then as his instructor in Arabic.
On his left was Hamadi ben Ibn, the Ribati Moor,
who, with his smattering of English and Spanish,
had accompanied the Manchester man upon his first
journey in Morocco. Near by the mules and horses
were tethered, contentedly munching their barley.
Upon a great brass tray between them a German-
silver teapot sprouted green mint. Each man held
before him his little glass of syrupy green tea. Hadj
Mohammed Drawi, who was superintending the build-
ing of Frobisher's white house near Arzila, sat a little
;|removed from the rest, fingering a rosary.

18 MOROCCO

" Why did I remain?" said Frobisher, reflectively
chewing the words of the question he repeated, and
gazing dreamily out past the questioner into the
violet heart of the valley, where a little stream, in-
visible in this twilight hour, murmured and gurgled
over the flat stones on its way down from the springs
among the olive hills. " What drew me, you say ?
But is not that to ask a mere man to explain the in-
wardness of the workings of Allah the One ? "

" Ah ! So you were drawn as far as Mohammed-
anism too, were you ? "

" I have not said that."

a No ; you must forgive me. But I wish you could
tell me of the beginning ; how it came about, your
cutting the old life so entirely for one you had never
known before."

"My friend, I fear I cannot explain. But from
this distance it does appear to me that I cut the old
lifelessness for new life, which one must know for life
at a glance ; instead of, as you say, cutting the old
life for one I did not know. As for what wakened
me, as I said, that is the sort of question which a
man may not answer from his own knowledge. The
Manchester business man you knew did not inherit
the bat-eyed sordidness you found him wrapped in
from both parents. Spanish blood came to me from
my mother, who was an artist. She must have seen
things themselves and not merely the market value
of things. Some gift of hers to me, long neglected,,
may have brightened into consciousness under these
warm skies. ' Whose hand shall measure God's
span?' You know the Moorish saying. But it wad
wonderful, wonderful in one day ! "

And now there were stories and to spare in the

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 19

man's eyes as he gazed in silence out into the evening
haze of the valley below ; stories and to spare, for
who could read them.

" On the morning of the Qth October," he began,
speaking in as low and expressionless a voice as that
affected in conversation by a Moorish aristocrat, " in
infidel-afflicted Tangier, I concluded the last task I
performed in the vexatious vanity which is called
business. Outside that futile pursuit it seems I had
never done anything in all my life. Poor, starved
creature that I was, I believe I had never thought
anything outside business. That morning I finished
business el hamdu 1'Illah ! x It happened that this was
the first day of an important Moorish wedding in
Tangier, and during the afternoon the great Sok 2 was
an Arabian Nights picture such as you know well.
Powder plays were unceasing, the horsemanship being
wonderfully dashing and fine. Story-tellers and
snake-charmers drove a thriving trade. The Sok was
absolutely thronged, the men in new slippers, fresh
lemon-coloured, the crooning women muffled in snowy
haiiks, the children clad in all the colours of the rain-
bow, and others devised of men. Ghaitah, shibbabah,
and t'bal, 3 filled the hiving air with sound, if not with
music. The jangling bells of the water-carriers with
their dripping, laden skins, and the nasal cries of the
sweetmeat pedlars pierced the mass of other sound
shrilly, and presently the call to evening prayer over-
rode all else and brought momentary calm.

" Jostled here and there among the throng, I
wandered, like a man walking in his sleep, half
stupefied, yet more, far more receptive than ever in

1 The praise to Allah ! 2 Market-place.

3 Flute, reed and drum.

20 MOROCCO

my life before, and drinking in the strange, wild
Eastern beauty of it all at every pore in my body.
It seemed this was no trance. The men who brushed
past me were real enough. All my life before was
the trance then, and this rich, primitive glamour, the
only hint of which that had ever reached me having
come by way of childish studies in a great illuminated
family Bible, this was the real thing ; this was life,
and here was I in the heart of it.

" Owing to some foolish misunderstanding, the
true significance of which I never learned, I, the quite
purposeless observer, became the central figure of a
squabble. I had peered into the veiled face of some
Shareefa 1 from Anjerra, it seemed. But the trouble
among the excited knot of her followers had its root,
no doubt, in my complete lack of understanding. It
was quite a scene for Christian-influenced Tangier.
Drawn daggers figured in it, and the Kaffir, son of a
Kaffir, who tells you this was like to receive more
than hard names it appeared, when the good "

" Nay, it was nothing ; I did but speak," broke in
Hamadi ben Ibn, the Ribati servant and follower of
Frobisher, speaking, deprecatingly, in the Moghrebin.

"As he says," continued Frobisher, "he did
but speak. Understanding was all that was needed, j
My extreme innocence made apparent, the the
incident was closed, and, escorted by Hamadi here,
I reached my hotel, in an admiring maze of wonder-
ment, and safely. But all this is simply Tangier Sok,
you say ; a thing seen and to be seen by any tourist,
who returns at the week's end to Camberwell or Man-
chester, and no bones about it. Just so, just so !

1 The wife of a Shareef, or one claiming descent from the Prophet's
family.

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 21

" That night, after dinner, sitting upon a balcony
which overlooked that wondrous market-place, the
twinkling lights of its tiny coffee-shops whispering
through space to me of the unchanging East, the
primitive youth of the world, as the family Bible had
pictured it for me, I was introduced to a strange
young English-speaking man, Christian or Nazarene,
as the Moors would have called him, intensely interest-
ing pagan, as it seemed to me, who had been born in
this Biblical land of European parents, and lived in it
a sort of petted outlaw in Christian eyes, a foreign
devil-god more respected than disliked by Moors.
This swarthy young athlete spoke to me of his life
inland, half - native and half - European, wholly
picturesque and curious. Some two or three of his
Moorish followers squatted near by while he talked,
motionless, dignified figures, sheeted and hooded in
all-covering white. He was leaving Tangier for
his home in the interior next day. He left me, at
length, in a dream of patriarchal orientalism, and in a
few moments the moon showed me his commanding
figure before Bab el Fas, the city gate, which was
opened to him, with many creakings and complainings,
by a sleepy guard, who undoubtedly saw the Israelites
enter Canaan. Rose then from out the shadow cast
by the eaves of a cupboard-shop Joshua the son of
Nun or it may have been Jethro, the father-in-law
of Moses with a bleating, black-avised ram upon his
shoulders, and obtained entry to the city in the wake
of my new friend. The great gate clanged to and its
yard-long bolt was shot. A nightingale sang
1 Come ! ' in a garden on my right, and from an
oleander below me his mate trilled response.
Beyond, the bay glistened like molten lead under a

22 MOROCCO

half-moon, and close at hand a sleepless wight
strummed languidly at his gimbri, and murmured of
the one God, and of gazelle-eyed loves of his own in
Beni Aroos. When I stumbled into my bedroom, as
the daybreak call to prayer was booming across
drowsy Tangier from its emerald-sided minarets,
Hamadi here lay across its entrance, far gone in sleep.
Dear life, how far was I already from the counting-
house in Manchester ! "

" ' You had better ride with me to-day ; I shall
make a short stage of it. This rascal here can come
along, too, to see you safely back to-morrow. You
had better come and have a taste of camping out.'

" 'But how shall I find a horse?' I asked. He
turned to 'this rascal,' my Hamadi here, and bade
him go find horses for us both. And so, without
thought, the thing was done. It was done ; and
and I remained ; and that is all ! "

" But but, my dear fellow, that accounts for a
day's journey. You have been seven months in the
country. They tell me you have sold out from your
firm at home. You have a house building ; you
well, look at you ! "

But Frobisher was looking fixedly, dreamily out
into the soft heart of the young night. However, he
may have seen the picture of himself, his reincarnation,
there, for he resumed gravely,

" Well, we set out after mid-day breakfast, Hamadi
and myself, with my picturesque new acquaintance
and his little caravan of four men and three times
that number of mules and horses. Just so and not
otherwise did men set out when Abraham's flocks
grazed over virgin hills in those glad, dim springtides
of the earth's youth. And so, you would say, a greasy

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 23

Barbary Jew sets out on a blood-sucking journey of
extortion among his oppressed and swindled Moorish
debtors. Oh, I grant all that freely enough. Only
I am trying to tell you why I remained ; the thing as
it was, that is the thing as I saw it. As I see it. I
had lived in Manchester. I had perversely looked
long enough at the sordid side of the shield. Why
should I choose to look at usurious money-lenders in
a land which furnishes forth living pictures of the
stateliest themes and characters of the Scriptures and
the Thousand and One Nights?

" I say we journeyed, then, as men journeyed in
the days of Abraham, across land the very shape of
which, with its sugar-loaf hills, and its rounded
hillocks, against the sky-line, over which camels and
laden asses, driven by hooded footmen, appeared cut
out ; illustrations to legends of genii, necromancy and
the flashing, passionate romance of the desert, of the
nomadic East. And before the sun sank behind that
boulder-strewn haunt of wandering robbers called the
Red Hill, we came to a halt beside a little camp
prepared by men who had left Tangier that morning.
Fifty yards from the camp, upon one side, was an
oleander-skirted pool fed by a spring. Upon the
other side was the road, the Open Road, in itself a
romance of old time and of all time. A hundred
twining snakes lying side by side and melting one into
another as far as the eye could see ; hollows beaten
out of the sun-baked earth by the feet of countless
thousands of horses, mules, asses, oxen, sheep, camels
and men ; men spurred forward by love, by fear, by
hate, by ambition, revenge, greed, and by that in-
eradicable wandering instinct which was as quick-
silver to the heels of Arabs, or ever Mohammed

24 MOROCCO

brought word of the One to earth, and will be till the
last Arab in the world falls, gun in hand, athwart the
scarlet fore-peak of his saddle, calling upon Death to
witness his unswerving faith in the singleness of
God.

" To me, with my new-opened eyes, it was all very
beautiful, very fragrant of the earth's young days.
But the talk of my host rather jarred upon me. He
aimed, I fancy, at the tone of a sporting club's smoking-
room, and that purely upon my behalf. Also, he was
over generous in the matter of his Rioja ; a c take no
denial' host. I agreed readily when the proposal
came to turn in. My host had, without assist-
ance, emptied one bottle and the half of another of
the Rioja. I fell at once into a light doze. An hour
later I woke and saw that my friend lay on the broad
of his back, reading by the light of a guttering inch of
candle stuck in the mouth of a wine-bottle. Curiosity
moved me and I glanced at the cover of his book. It
was a battered copy of Nuttall's Standard Dictionary.
Picture it and in those surroundings.

" 'Yes,' he said with a not over-jovial laugh, ' I'm
not altogether a savage, you see. I never hear any-
thing but Arabic, except when I come to Tangier. I
think and dream in it. So I peg away at this
occasionally, just to keep the words in my mind.
And it's not such bad reading as you might think,
either ! '

" When next I woke it seemed the whole world
was sleeping most profoundly, and that in the most
singularly beautiful pearly violet light the mind of an
artist could conceive, or unavailingly strive to repro-
duce. It was that traveller's snare, the false dawn, as
I know now. It might have been the coming of the

PHILLIP FROBISHER'S IMPRESSION 25

Kingdom of God for all I knew then. I slid out
quietly from under my blanket, stepped across my
host, where he lay asleep beside the tent's mouth, and
tip-toed out into the open. I walked toward the
oleander-sheltered pool, and then sat me down on a
flat stone, for the reason, upon my life, that I could
stand no more. The strange, sad, ghostly beauty of
it all possessed me as a palsy might, and my joints
were become as water under me. I am conscious of
having wept, sitting there on that stone, as a child
having won from loneliness and danger to its mother's
lap. It seemed the whole world, kamari* was before
my eyes, an unending, beautiful array of smooth hills
and dewy valleys, soaked in that marvellous mother-
! o'-pearl light in which I felt the first of men must have
seen the earth. The morning star gazed down upon
me serenely radiant. Creation was at my hand, an
intimate revelation of beauty. I could see the spheres
slowly revolving in their appointed paths. Under the
lee of my friend's little tent I could see the shrouded
white forms of the sleeping Moors. Near by,
tethered to stakes, the animals munched straw. I
gazed down the beaten highway of a hundred trails,
and presently a dim, white figure approached along
that highway, smoothly, silently, swiftly drawing near
from out the heart of the dawn. It was a man,
loping along like a pariah dog, a stick upthrust
between his neck and his kaftan, his few garments
kilted above the knee, his waist tightly girdled, a
palmetto bag swinging beside him, his slippers firmly
grasped in his left hand. He melted past our little
camp and out into the dimness of the valley beyond,
without a sound ; the courier from Fez.
1 Moon-coloured.

26 MOROCCO

" Here comes the day, I told myself, for the eastern
cheek of heaven's face whitened suddenly. A minute
later and night ruled. I had seen the false dawn.
So I sat on, thinking, to see the real dawn. I was
seeing so much so very much. By Allah and His
Prophet, I was seeing the dawning of my own life !

"And so when day came I decided to ride on with
my host. He made me very welcome in his strange
half-native home. I stayed there a month. And
then and that is how I came to remain."

My friend could glean no more from Phillip
Frobisher. He has certainly " remained " ever since,
save for a few brief journeys in Southern Europe. It
is a simple, fascinatingly simple and patriarchal life
that he leads in his great white house, with its colony
of dependants, its stream-thridded garden, its peacocks
and its orange-shaded courtyard, near Arzila.

As for Messrs Frobisher Bros, of Manchester, they
passed from astonished solicitude to disgusted con-
tempt. But they made a handsome thing out of
Phillip's retirement. It was little he cared.

EAST AND WEST

MOROCCO is a land of tyranny, oppression
and corruption. To deny that were to
mnounce oneself a poor, unobservant student and no
rue lover of Sunset Land. But the casual observer
s far less likely to deny than he is to exaggerate, and
be error of judgment into which, of all others, he is
nost apt to stumble, is one of a kind so fundamental
bat it will distort and disguise his whole future field
)f observation for him if not soon corrected. This
nisjudgment has its origin in lack of catholicity, and
s fostered by Europe's physical nearness to the land
>f the Moors. Briefly it lies in the application of the
norals of Christendom and the ethical standards of
nodern Europe, in one's estimate of a Muslim com-
nunity, dwelling in a land as actually remote from
lurope as Tierra del Fuego. No less lacking in
ruth and symmetry is this sort of view of Morocco
ban would be a man's view of a harvest scene in
ural England if the fixed standard of comparison
ind judgment carried in that man's mind were derived
rom the study of the Matterhorn in January. Near
is Morocco lies to the shores of Europe, no country
)n earth is more entirely beyond and outside the
Durview of European tastes and standards. And
oso permits this truth to escape him need never
lope for real insight, either into what newspapers call
;he " Situation in Morocco," or into the true inward-
less of Moorish life.

27

28 MOROCCO

Take, for example, the matter of slavery in Morocco.
A certain type of European visitor shudders when he
hears the word, and, should he pursue the beaten
track to Marrakish, will be sure to tell you afterwards,
with gusto, and before mention of anything else, of the '
slave-market he saw there. " Sold as chattels in open
market, I assure you. Oh, it is an abominable
country ! "

Well, well, and so it may appear to the modern
citizen of Christendom. We of the West cannot
justify the institution of slavery. Perhaps no man
truly can. Certainly we Christians cannot, but the
Mohammedan is not in the same case at all. He can
justify it. His religion (which is a more real thing to
him than religion and temporal law together to the
average Christian) recognises the institution and lays
down wise and humane laws for its regulation. The
Western reader is hereby recommended to the per-
usal of those laws in Al Koran. Slavery among
white men undoubtedly involved a great deal of,
cruelty and barbarity. Domestic slavery among j
Mussulmans, in Morocco, for example, involves
nothing of the sort. To our shame be it said,
the thing that makes English-speaking men de-
termined in their hatred of slavery is the fact that
English-speaking men horrified the world by their
barbarity when they dealt in slaves. Not so the
Muslim. The average slave in Morocco has at least
as good a life as the average poor man in England.
He not only is not ill-treated because he is a slave,
but he is not looked down upon for the same reason.
He is, upon the whole, a very well-treated dependant
at the worst. At the best he is the favoured " com-
panion of the right hand " of men of power and wealth ;

EAST AND WEST 29

he holds high office and is humbly deferred to by
his less fortunate fellows among freemen. No, the
slave in Morocco is by no means a persecuted and
pitiable chattel, but a well-cared-for household de-
pendant, whose life is full of possibilities, and who
may die a Grand Wazeer. But, as has been said, the
casual Western visitor to Morocco shudders at
; mention of slavery.

Let us use a parable, as the Moorish wont is.
Mr Blank of Brixton Hill, " educated up to the nines "
|(to use the phrase I heard used by one enlightened
tourist to describe another in Gibraltar last year), is
observantly parading the main street of Tangier.
He is taken in tow by some picturesque nondescript
of a resident, in whose veins are traces of half the
nationalities of the Mediterranean's shores, and
shown the sights. As a matter of course he is taken
to the prison. Your Tangerine nondescript soon
learns that horrors appeal most strongly to the in-
quiring stranger from the hotel. He looks through a
grating into a sufficiently unpleasant dungeon, as
unlike the modern white-washed cell of Wormwood
Scrubbs as anything could be. England has possessed
nothing like it for at least eighty years. One
prisoner attracts his attention. He pushes inquiry
regarding this prisoner, and feels the while like a
philanthropic M.P. or a Royal Commissioner. He
learns : (i) The prisoner has occupied his present
quarters for just six days. (2) He is the head man of
such and such a village, near the Red Hill. (3)
Some travellers were robbed outside that village a
month ago, and the order went thence from Tangier
that the thieves be handed over to justice, and
with them a fine of $400. (4) No ; $400 had

30 MOROCCO

not been stolen from the travellers, but 200 had. (5)
The thieves were duly handed over, and were in
prison. (6) No ; this head man was not one of
them. (7) Yes ; oh, yes, he was quite innocent of
the robbery. As yet only $220 of the $400 de-
manded from this village had been received by the
Basha of Tangier.

" But what of that ? " cries Mr Blank. " Here's a
man innocent on your own confession, suffering
imprisonment in this noisome hole for a robbery of
which he knows nothing ! Why, you might as well
imprison me! Horrible injustice! And when will
this poor fellow be set at liberty ? "

c< Ah ! who shall say ? Such things are from
Allah. Probably when his relatives bring in th<
remainder of that $400."

" Horrible corruption ! How much is that ii
English money ? "

" The $ 1 80 ? About twenty-seven pounds."

" And if it is not paid ? "

" Hadj Mohammed will remain if Allah wills it."

" What, always ? "

" If it be so written."

"Good Heavens!"

" Truly, there is but one God, in whose ham
are all things."

" Shameful 1 " exclaims Mr Blank, and wall
away to regard Morocco as a sink of barbarous
iniquity for the rest of his days.

And without doubt the system does fall short of
perfection, even more markedly, perhaps, than do the
systems of party government, trial by jury, correction
by means of solitary confinement, warfare upon a
humanitarian basis, and other shining trade-marks of

EAST AND WEST 31

European enlightenment. But as to how far short
the system falls Mr Blank is a poor judge (in much
the same way that the average juryman is a mighty
poor judge of conflicting evidence cleverly spread
before him by opposing counsel), for the reason that
he regards it, or rather the examples of its outworking
upon which he happens, from a purely European
standpoint. He, as it were, mentally sets the case in
the Old Bailey, imagining the robbery in question as
ja burglary in Tooting, and the imprisoned headman
as a sort of chairman of the Tooting vestry, who,
when at liberty, administers a prosperous linen-draping
establishment. Now, granting the Tooting burglary,
the Old Bailey setting were well enough ; and in the
lease of the linen-draping vestryman, Mr Blank's
deductions would be admirably just. But in Tangier,
ou see, it is not only the prison and the pallid
wretches there incarcerated that are such a big
remove from the Old Bailey and Wormwood
Scrubbs. The crimes are different in detail and
n essence ; the people, traditions, laws, customs, code,
point of view, powers of endurance, values all are
wholly and entirely different. Naturally, then, when
Mr Blank, escorted by his nondescript guide, peers
through the prison grating in Tangier's Kasbah, he
ees something totally different there also. If Hadj
Mohammed, the imprisoned headman, with his
cigarette between his fingers, were allowed to peer
into an English prison yard when a hanging was
toward, he would be at least as horrified, believe you
me, as Mr Blank could be at any sight the Tangier
Kasbah has to show. Indeed, I am inclined to think
that a week's "solitary " in an English penal establish-
ment would set Mohammed craving for the fetid

32 MOROCCO

atmosphere of the Tangier prison with its kief
and tobacco smoke and free gossip.

In the robbery case instanced, the amount claimed
by the persons robbed was $200. The amount de-
manded by the Tangier Basha, from the village
upon the outskirts of which the robbery took place,
was $400. Corruption at the outset, you say. Why,
yes, from our standpoint. Several persons pocket
fees in connection with crimes committed, even in
England. I n the ordinary course $400 being demanded
from a village, the m'koddem, or headman thereof, would
at once bustle about and collect $500, pocketing $100,
even as his superior would pocket $200, and the
Grand Vizier (if the case were one of sufficient im-
portance to be heard of in court) a similar or a
greater proportion.

" Then it comes to this," you would say, " that the
villagers themselves are the only sufferers/' That is
pretty nearly so. And it is as well to remember that
the actual robbers are probably among the villagers,
and known to them. It is also probable that their
plunder was really no more than half the amount
stated by their victims say $100. So that the village
actually loses $400, innocent and guilty in it suffering
alike. And that is an outrageous piece of injustice,
in English eyes. It is not so in Moorish eyes,
however, which, after all, is more to the point. The
average Moor had far rather run the risk of such occa-
sional injustice than the inevitable quarterly payment
of so much from his small earnings towards the main-
tenance of a police system for the protection of the
innocent. The villagers are each and all police in the
interests of their own village. They have little or no
ethical objection to robbery as a profession, and

EAST AND WEST 33

generally find the proximity of a really clever robber
something of an acquisition to the community. If
perchance a man has accumulated wealth, great or
small, experience teaches him to fear greedy officials
far more than outlaws.

In short, the existing system, an exemplar
of which so horrified Mr Blank, suits the men who
live under it a deal better than would the system to
which Mr Blank is accustomed.

And all this, by your leave, is not at all a defence
of the Moorish system of internal administration
(which is about as poor a thing in the way of ad-
ministrations as may be conceived), but merely a little
parable meant to illustrate the futility of judging
Moorish affairs by European standards. The East
is not the West, and never will be, any more than
earth is heaven or hell. And what is sauce for the
one will always be an emetic for the other, while
the two great groups of the human family exist.
The theories, beliefs, tastes, and, above all, the point
of view of the one, cannot be truly adopted and
assimilated by the other, no matter what clever pranks
may be played in the way of skin-grafting and surface
amalgamation. And for these things, as for all things
that are, let each branch of the Family render praise
to its Triune God, the " One Incomprehensible" and
Merciful, or its One God, " Lonely and Merciful," as
the case may be ; for the world were a dreary place
indeed if all its sons and daughters were as like as
peas in the one pod.

No white man who knows Morocco (even though
he be a missionary) will deny that the one kind of
Moor who is never to be trusted is the foreign-speak-
ing Moor who has been brought a good deal into
c

34 MOROCCO

contact with Christians on the coast. His moral
fibre, such as it is (rate it high or low as you choose),
is invariably sapped from the native by familiar inter-
course with Europeans, and he takes nothing from
us in place of it, save a liberal assortment of our
vices. And by the same token, what of our Western
morality, our Christian virtues of temperateness and
self-control, once we slide far enough into the life
and customs of the East ? And that question re-
minds me that I have the story of poor Pat Derry.
It shall be given here for the point it illustrates, and
for what it is worth.

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY

" T GUIDE! I guide! Ihyeh I guide!"

_L The too-persistent wight who thus chanted
his claim upon public attention sat crouched beside
the hotel's front steps, a blurred, picturesque break
in the moonlit emptiness of a sea-fronting terrace.
In that light the bay beyond was a crescent of
molten lead, its two horns, the gun-mounted port
arsenal (impressive till you learned that the guns
were fitted for no tougher work than that of saluting),
and the old tower which links decadent modern
Morocco to the Mauretania of Roman occupation.
In the crescent's shimmering centre the Sultan's
navy rode at anchor ; an old merchant steamer, pur-
chased from the infidels and used, when not engaged
in the transport of pickled rebels' heads, chiefly for
the purpose of carrying grain for his Shareefian
Majesty's troops from one port to another.

Inside the white hotel was electric light and
silence. Hotel and electricity both were spawn of
the infidels, and established there on Moorish terri-
tory, because that the Sultan, when wearied by the
giving of many refusals, had given his consent. In the
little hall office, the maestro, scanning figures, sipped
his evening coffee. In the bend of the marble stair-
way a sloe-eyed Spanish chambermaid sat chewing
nougat. In the passage between kitchen and dining-

35

36 MOROCCO

hall, two Moors, waiters, squatted on their heels,
smoking kief. In the drawing-room, the Spanish
widow resident ogled provocatively a middle-aged
English tourist, who drank champagne at thirty-two
pesetas a bottle, and shared the same with his neigh-
bour at the table tfhote. In this way, then, the widow
paid for her wine. She was scrupulously honour-
able. She postponed her serious evening rendezvous
with the young gentleman from the Italian Legation
by exactly thirty minutes each night, to permit of the
just settlement of this wine and ogle barter.

As for me, I lounged in the entrance way, looking
out over the terrace at the moonlit bay beyond ;
marvelling at the blackness of the Hill of Apes,
picturing to myself the doings of the crooked, yard-
wide streets of the city behind me, wondering how it
could be that I had stayed away from the glamour
and fascination of this bloody but beautiful Morocco
for so long a stretch as eleven years. I had landed
no longer ago than the afternoon of that very day.
And the epicure in me had bade me land as a tourist,
telling no one of my coming, seeking out no old
friends, and allowing myself to be borne off to the
hotel by a jabbering donkey-man. "Thus," the
epicure had said, confident in its undying foolishness,
"shall you taste again the savoury sting of first im-
pressions ; so shall you lend subtle bouquet to your
pleasure/'

"I guide! I guide! O, N'zrani, b'Allah ! I
guide. Naddil! Jirri!" (I will arrange! Haste
thou !)

The discordant wretch beside the steps was mazy
with hasheesh, as I had seen at a glance. His
head far back in a dingy djellab-hood, he had crooned

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 37

over his "I guide!" till recollection of his objective
had left the man. Suddenly he had been wakened
to realities, probably by hunger for food, or for
opiates. Hence his exclamations, and the boldness
which made him pluck at my coat. This clouded my
charmed vista; it interfered with my enjoyment of
the moon-washed scene.

" Seer fi-halak-um ! " (Get hence !) I snapped,
forgetting that the use of Arabic was out of keeping
with my role as tourist.

The Moor started dreamily to his feet. His
obedience cuffed me to repentance. Was I not a
tourist and fair game ?

"All right," I said in English. " Go ahead ! I

come."

And with a gesture I explained myself, accepted
the would-be guide's services, and assured to him the
kief and coffee money which his soul desired. He
grunted, as though his unaffected satisfaction required
explanation, and forged ahead of me on the sands,
bound apparently for the city gate.

At least the tattered rascal no longer worried me,
for he had no other English than the brief lie that
introduced as guide a beggar who lived idly upon
bounty, and had never thought of playing guide until
that evening, when an empty kief-pipe and an
empty belly combined to inspire an effort of some
sort. So much I gathered from the mutterings which
reached me from out the djellab-hood of my escort.

We reached that corner whence one advances
either to the city gate, or, by the hill road, to
Tangier's great outer Sok. The would-be guide
hesitated. The business was strange and distasteful
to him.

38 MOROCCO

" Nay," I heard him muttering in Arabic.
"Others may show Tanjah to the Nazarene to-
morrow. I will take him to the Fool's Fandak,
where I shall be fed and he shall give me money to
buy hasheesh from some traveller withal im sha 5
Allah!" (By God's grace!)

This rather interested me, and I followed along
the hill road contentedly enough. The city might
wait. My time was my own, B'ism Illah ; and I
needed no guide in those familiar intricate alleys.
Also, I desired knowledge as to what and where the
" Fool's Fandak " might be. A fandak, you must
know, is a place. No lesser or more particular word
will serve. It is generally an enclosed space in which
beasts are tethered, and in the cloisters about which
men may rest and eat and gossip. Attached to your
fandak there may or may not be a house ; there will
almost certainly be a smell, biting, acrid and far-
reaching, the odour of congregated men and beasts
in a land where sanitation is not.

As we bent our heads to escape contact with the
lamp outside Hadj Absalaam's little Sok coffee-
house, a breath of wind from the sea no more than
a careless yawn, an out-puff of drowsy Africa's breath,
so to say lifted my escort's djellab-hood backward to
his left shoulder and showed me the face of the man.
I confess to starting back a pace. Morocco is full of
disfigured faces, but you might almost have said my
guide had no face at all. It was just a flattened
expanse of cross-seamed skin ; a slanting gash for
mouth, two fiery eye-holes, and no more ; a night-
marish and horrible sight.

" Tortured in a country kasbah, or man-handled
and left for dead in some mountain gorge,' I told

I UK MAIN STKKKT OF TANUIKR

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 39

myself ; and was relieved when the poor wretch
jerked forward the mask-like hood of his djellab.

We crossed the Sok, mounted by the British
Legation, and dipped into the valley beyond. Just
then my nostrils became aware of the unmistakable
proximity of a fandak. Sure enough we halted a
minute later at a great gateway set in a wall of aloe
and prickly pears ; and, odours apart, I heard the
stamping of heel-roped animals and the monotonous
twanging of gimbri strings ; sounds thridded by a
weak, unceasing tootling upon a wheezy ghaitah
or flageolet.

" Give a little money, N'zrani ! " exclaimed my
guide, extending his right hand, scoop-wise, before
me, and speaking in his own tongue the only one he
knew.

" A nice sort of guide," I thought. Had I been
truly a tourist and strange in this country the situation
had been disconcerting enough without doubt. We
were some distance from the protecting publicity of
Tangier's lights. " For what purpose, rascal, should
I give thee money ? " I said sharply, and in my best
Moghrebin.

" That I may have hasheesh and kief," replied
the Moor, with no inflection of surprise in his voice.

" H'm ! We shall see. There is earning to be
done here as well as giving, sir guide. If this be thy
1 Fool's Fandak/ lead on. I will rest here awhile
and drink a glass of coffee."

There was no startling the fellow. He was a
most singularly imperturbable dog. It may be that
his phlegm was born of hasheesh, however, or that
he fancied most tourists passed their evenings in this
manner. At all events, with a sharp tug at a

40 MOROCCO

palmetto cord, my guide lifted the stone which kept
the fandak gate latched, and we entered a roomy
courtyard or corral, wherein a score of mules, stallions
and donkeys were fidgeting over the wispy remains
of their supper. A pool of light in one of the farther
corners of this yard indicated the opening by which
one reached the humanly-inhabited part of the fandak.
This corner my guide steered for, I after him, picking
my way cautiously among miry foot-ropes and loose
cobbles.

From the pool of light we passed into a very
spacious, oblong apartment, ventilated in Moorish
fashion by narrow perpendicular slits in its walls
close to the raftered roof, and by the ever-open door-
way. On the walls two great wicks floated in
Moorish lamp-brackets of oil, and about the paved
floor stood a few cheap German lamps. Some two
score men, all Moors, lounged about the room, which
had no other furniture than mats, rugs and half a dozen
little tables each about six inches high. Two groups
were card-playing. Two men were strumming at
gimbris, their eyes fixed as hemp will fix a man's
eyes. One made his moan listlessly upon a ghaitah ;
and the rest, lighting, knocking out and relighting
long kief-pipes, gossiped, or lay at ease, silent.

At the far end of the apartment a man sat bolt
upright, scanning a newspaper through steel-framed
spectacles. His dress was nondescript and negligent
to the verge of indecency, but purely Moorish. Yet
there was the newspaper! This man sat upon a
mattress. One guessed it was his sleeping-place.
Suddenly he turned his head toward the door; a
movement of the man who had brought me to this
11 Fool's Fandak " had caught his ear. The light fell

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 41

across his unshaven chin. I stared. The man
moved and caught light upon the upper part of his
face. I started forward.

" Good God, Derry ! What what do you here ? "
I cried, and strode forward, careless of my booted feet,
and scattering a row of slippers by the door as I
moved.

"Eh? Oh hang it! Where have you come
from ? U'm ? Sit down ! "

I squatted on the mattress beside him when our
hands had met. After touching my hand I noticed
that he mechanically raised his own fingers to his lips,
Moorish fashion. The last occasion upon which I
had taken this man's hand had been somewhat other-
wise. It was eleven years before, and the young
Irishman had then been setting out upon the third of
his adventurous exploring journeys in the interior,
disguised as his custom was as a Moor, at the head of
a little caravan of seven beasts and four men. A
week later I had left the country. And now now I
sat down beside Derry on his mattress.

"Well, whose is this Fool's Fandak, anyhow?" I
asked, feeling my way among the innumerable ques-
tions engendered by the situation.

" Eh ? Heard that, then, have you ? It's mine."

"Well, but do you I mean"

"Yes, I live here; it's my show. It's not
exactly a business ; not a paying concern, you know.
But it doesn't cost much. You knew that I had a
little money of my own. Yes, I live here. I wonder
no one's told you. Of course, the white men don't
know me now, you know. They'd tell you I'd gone
Fantee ; lived native, or something. I do, in a way.
The clothes ? Oh, yes ; one picks up habits. Yes, I

42 MOROCCO

live here right enough. Let me see ; nine, ten over
ten years now. Have a er won't you smoke ?"

Kief-pipes lay before my old friend, but nothing
nearer a white man's taste. He had just noticed it.
I drew cigarettes from my pocket.

"Look here, Deny," I said, whilst taking a light
from him, " I don't want to pry, you know. Chacun
a son godt, and and so on ; but what the Dickens
are you driving at anyway ? How do you come to
be living in living here ? "

He regarded me heavily, and I noted with regret
the yellow cloudiness of his eyes. I thought he
seemed to be weighing in recollection's scales the
quality of our friendship as warranty for my curiosity.

" Well," he said slowly, "it's a queer, beastly sort
of story. But if you want it, and w r on't repeat it to
any of the other Christians in Tangier, I'll tell it
you."

I gave my word and waited.

" Well," he began, and then paused, a vaguely
pained look flitting over his thin face. " By the way,
ye know, you mustn't think I run a hasheesh den.
Nothing of that sort. By God, * Fool's Fandak ' it
may be, but it is a genuine fandak for travellers
anyway. No women here ; no dancing-boys, or
trash of that sort. Coffee and tea I give 'em, and,
mark you, I've got 'em to take the English tea at
that the black sort, I mean ; less nerve-shattering
than their green truck, ye know. The hasheesh
and kief; well, you know what Moors are. They
will have it. They bring it. I don't supply it. I \
er "

His eyes fell on the kief-pipes and little embossed |
hasheesh cup beside the mattress, rose then andi

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 43

met mine. Then, slowly, colour mounted in Berry's
face, and a silence fell between us while the Moors
stared incuriously at the Fool and his guest. We must
be frank, I thought.

" Hang it, old man, I can see ! You don't suppose
the contracted pupils and yellowness mean nothing to
me. I noticed all that as soon as I saw you."

"Ah! well," he said, " habits fall upon one;
grow about you from the soil you live in hey ? I
don't take much."

I sighed. " But let me hear the yarn," said I.

" Well, when I last saw you I was starting for
Tafilet ; wasn't that it ? Yes. Well, it was a devil
of a bad journey in every possible way ; in every
possible way it was bad, was the last of my journeys.
My men all died or left me in the Atlas ; and I was
stranded in Ain Tessa with lame beasts, and not
another soul but old Hamadi the cook. One day's
journey from there I was making homeward toward
Fez in disgust I reached a big fandak, after sundown
and in a howling storm of rain and wind. Oh, but it
was a horrible night ! Up to your girths in mud, no
road, lame beasts, and poor old Hamadi whining like
a wounded dog. We couldn't possibly have pitched a
tent, so we went into this great fandak, thinking to
"make sure of one comfortable night's rest after a very
exhausting week. I was keen about it. I remember
thinking how fine it would be to roll in my blankets
on a dry floor. Man, I ran at it ; b'Allah, I ran into
the place ! "

Derry paused, glaring vacantly over my right
shoulder toward that mouldering, wind-swept grey
fandak in a savage Atlas gorge ; a place that in all
human probability no other white man had ever

44 MOROCCO

clapped eyes on. I had tasted something of the
strenuous delights of the Open Road in Morocco. I
knew with what an appetite a man views walls and
roofs, be they ever so crumbling and weather-worn,
after a dozen hours spent in a high-peaked Moorish
saddle, scrambling over rock-strewn quagmires in
drenching rain.

" But it was an uncanny place, that fandak,"
hummed Derry, rolling the words reminiscently over
his tongue; "a howling, god-forsaken Stonehenge
kind of a place it was. Had been a mountain kasbah
of sorts ; big as a village, old as the Flood, and
rottenly decayed in every stone of it. We tethered
the beasts and got my pack into one of the two rooms
built in a corner. You know the style. One a sort
of store-room, that we made for ; the other, the tea
and coffee-making place, and headquarters of the
fandak-keeper. Most of the travellers slept round
about the roofed-in sides with their animals, and so
paid nothing beyond the fee for stabling.

" You remember my horse old Zemouri ? The
most gallant beast, the bravest, gamest horse ever
lapped in hide."

I nodded. Derry's love for this barb had been
something of a byword in Tangier in the old days.
It was said that when he was so nearly starved, on
the Berber trip, Zemouri munched the last score of
Tafilet dates while Derry cinched up his belt a hole
or two and comforted himself sucking the stones.
Not many women have been better loved, I fancy.

" Well, it had been a devil of a day, apart from
the going and the weather. It seemed that for a
week we had passed close to mares at least once an
hour. Now you remember how old Zemouri carried

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 45

on when there was a mare in the case. That journey
was worse than ever. By the Lord, the old horse
was in a lather before ever you clapped saddle on his
Dack. Mares Heavens and earth, he could scent
them miles away! He travelled in a tremble on his
lind legs, and near wrenched the arms out o' me, on
a Mequinez curb that would have broken some horses'
aws to look at. Barley b'Allah, Zemouri had no
time to eat; it stopped his neighing. He never
closed an eye at night, and rarely ate a mouthful, if
there was anything feminine within sight. Poor old
Zemouri ! He grew thin as a rail, and yet pranced
all day like a two-year-old. He carried me where no
other horse could, when he was dying ; and he did it
all with an air, bedad ! A brave, a cavalier, was
Zemouri, if ever there was one.

" Well, of course I had found him the best place
in the fandak; the corner close to the rooms, with no
other beast within twenty yards of him. The horse
was utterly worn out, but glad of the shelter, and
inclined to feed and rest, I thought. So we went
into the room to boil tea and enjoy our precious
comfort. We fed and rested, listening to three very
decent and sociable robbers, who were for making an
evening of it, in a mild sort of way, in the little coffee
place. Then I made up my bed, and went out to feed
Zemouri, reckoning he'd be cooled by then. He was,
and I was mighty pleased with the idea of the old
horse having a good night. Two brimming tumnies
of washed barley I left him, and then I went in and
curled up under my blanket, praising St Patrick.

" I was asleep in two minutes, and in five I was
wakened by Zemouri's neighing and stamping.
Bless the old fool,' I cried, * what's wrong with him

46 MOROCCO

now? ' I climbed over Hamadi, and out into the mire
and rain, to get round the arch sheltering Zemouri.
An egg-pedlar had just arrived and was already
chewing black bread, while his raw-boned skeleton of
a mare with the egg-pack was sidling up within six
paces of Zemouri, and never so much as a string t<
her fetlocks. I cursed the man for a pig-eating clown
and told him to tether his ramshackle mare somewher
the far side of Al Hdtoma. He stared and grinnec
like an idiot. God knows! It may have been ha
sheesh. I wasn't so used to that stark intolerabl
phlegm then. However, he called me * Sidi ' humbl;
enough, and mumbled something about moving hi
mare and seeing that my lordship's horse was no
again disturbed. And so, as he led his poor beas
away, and Zemouri quietened down quite remarkably
I went back to bed, and was asleep before I coul<
cover myself.

" Ten minutes later Zemouri was neighing wildly
and pawing the fandak wall like a mad thing,
tumbled out, swearing, and found that wretched egg
pedlar lying smoking on a pack-saddle, watching hi<
straying mare as she dodged Zemouri's heels and
squirmed in towards my barley. The man gave me
his insufferable glassy grin again when I spoke to
him. I didn't lift my hand. I laid hold on mysel
properly. I gave the man a tumni of barley and a
loaf of good bread for himself, and I bade him civilly
By God, I begged him ! go and hang himself and
his mare on the other side of the fandak. It made
me sweat to see his grin. I coaxed Zemouri, and
went back to my bed.

" But I didn't get to sleep so quickly this time. I
was over-tired, I was worrying horribly about poor olc

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 47

Zemouri, and all my nerves seemed in a listening
strain, shivering like harp-strings. However, I
dropped off after a while and slept a few minutes.
Then Zemouri brought me out in one bound, my
skin all pricking. The mare was browsing about
within a few yards of my horse, and the pedlar, back
in his old place, chewing my bread and staring
stupidly, half asleep, at his beast. I was angry. Oh,
yes, too angry to dare say much. I drove the pair
out as a man shoos poultry. Zemouri hadn't eaten
six mouthfuls and seemed to be treading on hot irons.
I reckon my temperature was well past fever point
when I got back to bed.

" I don't know if you've ever been placed that
way, to be so dog tired that you ache with it in every
muscle, and yet to be in such a feverish sweat of
irritation that you can't even lie still, leave alone
sleep. I was listening. My God, how I listened !
That was the trouble. I could not give over listening,
with every hair on my head and every pore in my
skin, it seemed. It was "

Derry paused, staring over my shoulder as before.

"Well, to cut the yarn shorter the same thing
happened seven separate times. Seven times that
poor wretch of a pedlar grinned and stared stupidly
in my face, when fury was boiling out at my pores
like steam at a safety-valve. What possessed the
pedlar, heaven knows. The devil possessed me. I
could have sat down and cried to see dear old
Zemouri using up the last drops of his vitality so.
But I was too red-hot with irritable fury and aching
weariness.

" The seventh time came, and the pedlar grinned
again. I still think he had no right to grin in that

48 MOROCCO

maddening, fat-headed way at a wretch in my condi-
tion. Poor chap ! There was a big mallet there,
used for driving in tethering stakes. I lifted it above
my head. I felt myself foaming at the mouth. I
couldn't speak to that staring, grinning thing. The
muscles in my arms leapt to strike him. -I smashed
that mallet down full and square on the pedlar's glassy
face. I felt the thing give horrible! I swung the
mallet again and again all over him. I jumped on
him with both feet. I and then men came running
from everywhere, and I stopped. I knew I had killed
the pedlar ; I had murdered a defenceless man. I
heard the people hiss at me like serpents. I saw
them turn the body, find no life in it, and turn again
to me. I was very cold. The mallet I still held. I
was very cold. By the saints, how cold and still I
was, who had been so hot ! "

The egg-pedlar could never have stared more
fixedly than poor Derry was staring over my shoulder
now. I thought I should not get another word out of
him. But presently his attitude became relaxed, his
figure, as it were, caved in. I noticed then how the
last decade had aged and broken up the sinewy young
Irishman I had known. " I must get him out of this
hemp-chewing, tea-sipping death-trap somehow, if he
is to live at all," I told myself. Then he went on
again, speaking very listlessly, and with a slurring
economy of words.

" I don't know how we managed to oret out of that
place alive, Zemouri, Hamadi and me. If they'd 've
guessed I was a Christian the Moors would have torn
me in pieces. As it was I kept the mallet and let my
gun be seen. You know what Moors are in the
country, too. A man more or less ! He is dead, it

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 49

was written. You know the tone. I gave the
fandak-keeper four dollars and told him to see to a
burying. Then we got away with our animals before
daylight. But I had to live with myself, you see.
You might think I had left that dead pedlar behind,
got quit of him. But I hadn't, by thunder! He rode
on my back that day, and I've never been free of
his smashed grinning headpiece since. Eh ? "

I had not spoken.

" But he hasn't worried me so much of late. I

fancy I've pretty near worked clear. It's odd, you

'know, but I've an idea that the nearer I get to him

if he went to the place I'm going to when he died

the freer I get of him. And that's queer, isn't it ? "

" H'm ! But how about this place and your living
here?" I asked.

" Why, don't you see that's how I'm working it off?
I murdered a Moor in a fandak; and a pretty bad
fandak, too. Well ! This is a pretty good fandak,
don't you see ? And Moors come and go here as they
like, and never a bilyun to pay. It's all free. My
little two-fifty a year was for life, you know. Oh, I'm
working it off. You'll excuse the habit, but I must
have a pipe," he said with a dismal sort of a smile.
And he filled and lighted a long kief-pipe with an ease
of familiarity that my gorge rose to see in a white
man.

I had to leave him at last, for I had no notion of
sleeping in that kief-clouded den. He took ha-
sheesh before we parted, and I left him pretty
rm.ddled. A strong man in a way, I thought, and
beyond the ordinary true to an active conscience.
Yet, in another way, how pitiably weak! Perhaps I
did not rightly understand living native then, I

50 MOROCCO

know more of it now. And I have never met a man
strong enough to do as Derry had done, and still
and yet not do as he had done in the ways of
weakness.

Next morning I found that beggar-guide crooning
on the hotel door-steps, bemused and hasheesh-
drunk. He asked me for money, and remembering
that I had paid him nothing the night before, I tossed
the wretch a few reales and turned to leave him.

"You talk with the Nazarene at the fandak. He
tell you everything, eh ? " said the beggar, in Arabic.
" Maybe you do not believe. Christians believe
nothing. But it is all true true as Al Koran. Ihyeh,
all true ; all true ! "

I wondered why the man chuckled, and how he
knew. I could see he was in no condition to weigh
his words.

"What is true?" I asked him. "What do you
know about it ? "

" What does old Cassim know? Ha! Ihyeh, old
Cassim knows many things. What do I know?
Look! Here is the face the Christian smashed with
his mallet in the fandak by Ain Tessa ! What do I
know ? I know I have grown fat these ten years in
the Fool's Fandak. Not for nothing was Cassim's
face smashed. What do I know? Ihyeh! But,
Sidi ! the white lord will not tell his Christian
brother of these things. It were not well that an old
man should lose his home. I I Cassim sayeth
many foolish words, meaning nothing. What do I
know ? Ha ! Ihyeh, ihyeh ! Give a little more
money, Sidi!"

He had lowered his hood again, so that I no
longer had the featureless horror of his head before

THE STORY OF PAT DERRY 51

me. But the creature's proximity was something
more than I could stomach just then, so I walked
off slowly, thinking. There was no doubt of the
truth of his words, I thought. He was the egg-pedlar
of the fandak. And my old friend had dragged
through ten years of living death, with murder on his
soul, for this !

In my ignorance I decided I could make up for all
that now. I had a horse saddled, and rode up to the
Fool's Fandak."

Yellow, frowsy, cloudy and sad, I found my friend
typical picture of the hemp slave in morning time.
My news stirred him deeply, but not as a free man
iad been stirred by it. Rather as one who, relieved
>f an aching pain, would turn upon his other side and
leep, there in the bed of his sickness.

Three full days I was kept busy before I finally
lad him clothed as a white man and sitting in a room
lext mine at the hotel. And then, in the garments of
is own people, he looked a strange, shrunken creature,
ar more of a wreck than before at the fandak. He
efused to see other white men ; and, after a few days,
he hotel-keeper, with many apologies, complained to
me of the kief smoke and smell of hasheesh in the
corridor by my friend's room.

Silver stopped this complaint. But within a day
or two the man came puling to me about Moors
4 disreputable natives" he called them trapesing
ibout his hotel and congregating in my friend's
'oom.

I did what I could, but the thing was dis-
heartening.

One afternoon I was surprised to find Berry's
'oom empty. I waited till sundown, but he did not

52 MOROCCO

return. I had my suspicions, but barely admittec
them to myself. After dinner I rode up to the
fandak, foisting upon myself the pretence that I
wanted to take another look at the wretched place
that monument to a good man's fatally wrong-headec
devotion to a very honest conscience.

I found Derry there, as I knew I should, sur-
rounded by flattering Moors, dressed Moorish fashion
and sipping hasheesh in honey from a gilt-flowerec
mug.

He never left the fandak again, for four days later
the Moors came to me with word that the " Fool " was
dead.

" You must forgive me, old man," I found scrawled
on a scrap of brown paper that was clenched betwixt
his dead fingers. "You don't understand. I know
how kindly you meant. But it's better this way,
perhaps. Anyhow, I think I've worked it off now.

" PATRICK DERRY."

UNDER THE PARASOL

'TPHE highest spiritual authority in Morocco is
i the recognised temporal head of the realm ;
at this present, his Shareefian Majesty Abdel Aziz IV.,
whom may Allah direct.

It were not easy to define the exact nature of the
Sultan's sway, his position in the eyes of his subjects.
Loyalty to the throne, in the European sense of the
word, is absolutely unknown, uncomprehended among
Moors. Mauldnd, Our Lord, as his people call him,
would certainly hold no sway whatever beyond the
confines of his court, and very little there, failing his
spiritual rank as the first of all living Shareefs ;
descendants, that is, of the Prophet. Among the
wilder hill tribesmen and the original owners of
Morocco, the Berbers, it is this aspect of The Lofty
Portal's greatness, and this alone, which lends weight
to his decrees, and some glamour of sacredness to
his will and person. But, withal, the tax-collecting
must needs be performed by an army among the
mountain Berbers, who will never carry their
reverence for Allah's Anointed so far as voluntarily
to pay him tribute in cash or kind. But the Berbers,
it must be remembered, are not of Arab stock.
Islam swept upon them at the points of the invaders'
lances. Among Moors proper, reverence for the

53

54 MOROCCO

Sultan's holy descent, and respect for the undoubted j
power of life and death which that descent and its
position have given, are proven genuine, if only;
by the historical fact that even royal acts of the most
revolting brutality have failed to cause a Sultan's'
overthrow, though several have suffered death at the
hands of their personal guards, or among their!
women. The Moors would never rebel against their |
Lord by reason of his cruelty or injustice ; but they
would dethrone him without ceremony or compunction
were his holy descent disproved, or proved inferior
to those of some other royal Shareef.

The Moorish people, as a mass, have silently
endured, and even now would submit to almost any
enormity in the shape of oppression from an acknow-
ledged Sultan. Yet if, at the instance of European
ambassadors, for example, a measure of legislative
reform were introduced which impinged ever so
slightly upon religious precedent or established
tradition, the submissive hive of toiling humanity that
peoples Morocco would rise with the unanimity of a
drilled army and wipe that reform out of existence.
But if some poor half-crazed f'keeh dreamed a dream,
journeyed afoot to the Court in far Marrakish, or Fez,
fell upon his knees before the Shadow of the Sacred
Parasol, and urged the same measure of reform as
being the teaching of his vision (though that vision
were born merely of an empty stomach by over-
indulgence in hasheesh), the reform would be
universally adopted law and practice throughout the
Far West before a dozen moons had waxed and
waned.

In name and theory all Moorish Sultans are
absolute autocrats. As a fact, history shows that as

UNDER THE PARASOL 55

with Christian monarchs so it has ever been with rulers
of Islam in Morocco and elsewhere ; when a strong
man succeeds to the Parasol he becomes actually an
autocrat ; in the case of weaker saints the autocracy
is only nominal. The Moorish Court has always (and
at the present time more than ever before) been so
constituted that only a very strong man could
dominate it and bend its various influences to fit his
own will. The immediate entourage of the ruler has
generally contained one minister capable of driving
his master under pretence of slavishly following him.

The hareem of most Sultans has provided at least
one dominating personality, and is always a power to
be reckoned with by those whose fate it may be to
have dealings with the Moorish Court. The Oriental
predilection for the society and companionship of
those whose position is practically, and often
technically as well, that of slaves, is particularly
noticeable in Morocco, both at court and in all great
households. Such petted companions do not criticise
one ; they flatter. Their very presence and their
bounty-fed sleekness is a sort of tribute, pleasing to
the Eastern mind as are the misfortunes of his
neighbours to the Western person of culture.

But, regarded in another way, there is no master
so masterful as your pampered dependant. Nazarene
Bashadors, in their official wisdom, may not always
recognise the fact, but fact it is that the Moorish
Government rarely orders a new supply of tents, far
less signs a treaty, without the approval of some
power behind the curtain, some stained and scented
favourite who sits rustling her silks, jingling her
bangles, sucking confectionery, and playing with
human destinies in the eternal twilight of the hareem.

56 MOROCCO

The women-kind of Moorish Sultans are always
a large and varied assortment, embracing beauty in
black and white, and all the shades between.
Martiniere, who should know, speaks of thirteen
Frenchwomen being in the hareems of the last three
sultans. It is well-known that the mother of the
present Sultan, a woman who was always consulted by
Moulai Hassan in affairs of State, and who no doubt
dictated her son's policy upon his real accession after
the death of " Father" Ahmad, the Regent- Wazeer,
in 1900, was a Circassian bought in the mart at
Constantinople by the late Hadj Abd es Salam, and
presented to his Shareefian Master, the then reigning
monarch. And it was because this reputedly beauti-
ful Circassian became her lord's favourite that her
offspring, Abd el Aziz, was trained for the Parasol,
and chosen by his father to succeed to it, whilst some
of his brothers, or step-brothers, were imprisoned,
others exiled to Tafilet, and others buried in the
obscurity of remote governorships.

In view of these things it will readily be under-
stood that competition for entry to the Shareefian
hareem is keen. Great nobles and ambitious
ministers will bribe the arifahs, or wise women, in
charge to admit their pretty daughters and press
them before the Sultan's notice at suitable seasons,
such as on a Thursday afternoon, the eve of Muslim
Sabbath, when the late Sultan always had his women
paraded through the hareem gardens, in order that he
might choose two or three to bear him company
during Friday. The present writer knew a Moorish
official who, fancying his position was a little shaky,
decked out the pearl of his household, his favourite
fourteen-year-old daughter, and sent her as an offer-

UNDER THE PARASOL 57

ing to the hareem of the Elevated of Allah. It
delayed his downfall by precisely twenty-one days, at
the end of which time he was flung into prison and
the whole of his property confiscated by the Sultan.
It may have been that the daughter was found
wanting, or that his Shareefian Majesty never set
eyes upon her pearliness. In any case, it was written,
and the profit thereof, to the Shareefian coffers, was
considerable, for Hadj Mohammed had been ever a
great " eater-up " of the district under his rule, though
a good fellow enough in his way, at liberty now, and,
so Fez gossips affirm, creeping into favour again.
May Allah have a care of him ; his was a most
admirable seat upon a horse.

Putting aside intrigues and conspiracies, which
are no more to be numbered than are the sands of the
seashore, or the sins on a Wazeer's conscience, the
Moorish Court is generally more prolific of princes
and princesses, shareefs and shareefas, than anything
else. Each one of these saintly little personages is
brought up in an isolated sanctuary, each boy among
them having a slave of his own age told off as his
companion, to be called brother. Disinterestedness
is rare in most Oriental countries. By this method
the young shareef is supposed to be sure of one
devoted adherent through life, and all things con-
sidered, he is perhaps quite as safe to achieve this as
the average European is likely to retain the disinter-
ested attachment through life of his god-parents, for
example, or any other of his relatives. The girls are
matrimonially disposed of as speedily as may be, and
without much effort or ceremony. They inherit no
rank. The boys are married off at State functions
directed by the Sultan, and only the intended heir

58 MOROCCO

(each Sultan appoints and chooses his own successor)
is given high rank and brought prominently before
the public as the Ruler's son.

So much, then, for the greatest of all checks upon
absolute autocracy in Moorish government those
that may be called domestic. Then there is the
company of the 'Aoldma, or "the Learned Ones";
the theologians and commentators, who, as experts in
Mohammedan custom and the lore of Islam, are
supposed to advise Majesty at all points as to what
Alkoran counsels and what it forbids. It must not be
imagined that these grave and reverend seigneurs
form a Parliament or an episcopal bench. On the
contrary, they have no fixed status, and the very
number of them is constantly changing and never
known. One may only say of these f'keehs that they
preserve and expound religious tradition, which in the
world of Islam means public opinion and public
morality. Their opinions are always asked in every
matter of moment, because at the last analysis it will
be found that in Morocco all progress, movement,
policy, the whole life of the nation, hinges upon and is
moved by the Mohammedan faith. Moorish Sultans
are always sufficiently politic to seek the countenance
of the 'Aoldma, because whatever the 'Aoldma
approve Morocco will swear to and abide by. On
the other hand, the Elevated Presence, by token of
his descent and position, is himself the chief of all
"wise men," and practically holds the 'Aoldma in the
hollow of his hand. Hence its members invariably
ascertain the tenor of the Sultan's wishes (the parents
of his convictions) before themselves expressing an
opinion. And should the Elevated Presence be bent
upon a course that is clearly contrary to Al Koran's

UNDER THE PARASOL 59

teaching, the Aolama are apt to ponder solemnly
awhile, and then announce that the point involved is
clearly one of those left for the decision of Allah's
Anointed, who, as the Father of Islam, is the best
judge of its interests. But, natheless, the Aoldma is
a slight check upon the Autocrats of all the Moors,
and a very present refuge in negotiation with friends,
and in the fending off of infidels with their thirst for
" improvements."

Descending the scale of authority, from the Lofty
Portal's own sacred person, one must reckon first with
the prime favourite of the hour. That favourite may
be a woman ; that is an unseen, and accordingly the
more absolute, power. If a man, the favourite will
probably be Grand Wazeer (Wazeer el Kabeer) and,
to all intents and purposes, the active ruler of the
land, having control over all monies and appointments,
with unlimited power for oppression and imprisonment,
and practical power of life and death. If an able and
ambitious man, this favourite will probably unite the
position of Wazeer el Barrani, or Minister of Foreign
Affairs, with that of Grand Wazeer. But, in Tangier,
where the Ministers of the European Powers reside in
their Legations, there is Hadj Mohammed Torres,
Commissioner for Foreign Affairs, who is really the
only Moorish official in personal touch with the
Representatives of Western civilisation, and, accord-
ing to the Christian estimate, the only honourable
and straightforward Moorish official living. Hadj
Mohammed is reputed to have passed his eightieth
year ; his position is one rich in opportunities, his is a
country in which official salaries are practically un-
known and official rapacity a thing looked for and
expected, yet, to his lasting credit be it said, this

60 MOROCCO

Commissioner for Foreign Affairs is still a man poor
in worldly gear, and one of his sons, a working shoe-
maker in a cabin hard by the official residence, has
made slippers for me, while his brother sold candles
in a cupboard a little farther on. Hadj Mohammed
is probably the only office-holder in Morocco who
does not accept bribes as a matter of ordinary routine.
Be it noted, as an instructive fact, that he is far from
being the most popular of officials among his own
countrymen.

There are two other important Ministers in the
governmental system of Sunset Land, those of
Finance and the Interior; and the latter has far
more to do with money than the former, for the
Minister of the Interior has the nomination of pro-
vincial governors in his hands, and these be posts
for which men must pay heavily, in hard coin, in
flocks and herds, and in goods and chattels ; where-
as the Mul el Mai (he of Finance) presides over an
exchequer, details as to which are probably known
to no man a treasure which is divided between the
three capitals, Fez, Mequinez and Marrakish, and
which, it is said, can be opened only by agreement
between the keepers, the governors of the palaces, the
chief eunuch, and the wise woman in charge of the
hareem. 1 Gentlemen of considerable official dignity
and influence are the Bearer of the Parasol (mul el m'
dal), the Fly-flicker (mul el shtiash), the Master of
Ceremonies (mul el meshwar), the Executioner with
the gun (mul el m'kahel), the Spear-bearer (mul el
mzreag), the Headsman (seeaf), the Flogger (mul
el azfel), the Tea-maker, Tent-layer, Cushion and
Spur-bearers, and a few others whose strength lies
1 See Meakin's Moorish Empire^ p. 206.

UNDER THE PARASOL 61

in the known fact of their personal nearness to the
Elevated Presence. All these, like the various
Ministers, like Allah's Anointed himself, expect to
be approached only by those who bring " something
in the hand." The more important the person, the
more considerable must the " something" be, and if
it is a personage of highest rank whom you would
interview, then must a list of your intended presents
precede you, and according to the nature of that list
so shall your reception be, cordial or brusque, pleasant
or forbiddingly cold.

In Morocco the Court is more distinctly the centre
of all light and authority than would be the case in
any Western land, and this for the reason that daily
sight of his Lord is the only gauge by which an
official may judge of the safety or otherwise of his
tenure of office, of his life and liberty even, and of
his freedom to prey upon his less highly-placed fellow-
man. Also, to the man about the Court, each day
brings its chances of gifts in store. By a well-chosen
present, an aptly-turned phrase, by the discovery of
a fellow-courtier's disloyal scheming, by a deft touch
of flattery, by any of a hundred and one trivial chances,
a sedulous dependant of the Court elevated by Allah
may at any moment be raised to the highest pinnacle
of power, rank and wealth, in place of some un-
fortunate wight, who is stripped of these gauds and
loaded down with chains in some rat-infested old
grain-well or other dungeon all in less time than
Christians take to obtain a summons for debt or
trespass.

The diplomatist or traveller who looks to find a
higher code of honour (as such matters are under-
stood in Christendom) the higher he goes in the

62 MOROCCO

Moorish social or official scale is foredoomed to dis-
appointment. Some of the most brazen liars in
Morocco are men of very high standing. An
English Minister once tore up a treaty and flung it
at the Sultan's feet, stung to fury by the crude dis-
honesty of the men he dealt with. Needless to say
he gained little by that. Deceit is a perfectly legiti-
mate weapon, according to the ethics of all Oriental
courts, and is used as such. In the courts of
Christendom it is an illegitimate weapon, and, one
gathers, is used as such. The Westerner gains
nothing by losing his temper over his Oriental
adversary's use of cunning; but he does gain
materially by the use of judicious firmness, just as
he loses inevitably when he persists in adopting
toward an Eastern potentate the same attitude and
tactics which have served him in dealings with his
own race. Upon the whole, European official deal-
ings with the Moorish Court are colourless and unin-
teresting, but I must tell here the tale of a certain
unofficial transaction between Morocco and a
Western Power, because I think the story too good
to be missed.

THE BEACHCOMBERS

H, yes ! " said the slighter of the two men on
the beach, speaking with the last extreme of
languid bitterness. " So long, certainly ! And good
luck by all means, if you can place any value on
wishes from me. God knows I've no further use for
wishing myself. You've more grit left in you than I
have, Jones! "

The other man paused. He had been strolling
off along the sun-whitened sands toward the town.
He turned now, with a shrug of his broad, scarcely-
clad shoulders, and regarded curiously the limp,
recumbent figure of the man he was leaving
leaving stretched there in the shadow of a ruined
fort, a crenellated shell, with toothless, half-buried
cannon, and walls which glib guides dub Roman.

"I told you my real name yesterday," he said,
with brusque geniality.

4 'But I didn't reciprocate," rejoined the other,
screwing one elbow further into the powdery sand.
" Jones is a good enough name for you, isn't it ? And
I'd just as soon continue as Smith till till the only
kind of luck I wish myself comes ; and that's death ! "

" Rats ! One square meal and a cigar would alter
all that, sonny. By the hokey, a good fat kesk'soo
an' a cigarette 'ud see me through. An' I'll
worry 'em out o' this blooming old city to-day, too ;
you can kiss th' Book on that, Mister Smith since
it's Smith an' Jones you prefer. So long! "

63

64 MOROCCO

Now kesk'soo is a purely Moorish dish, and
Jones was but a recent arrival in Sunset Land, whilst
the other man had spent many years in different
corners of it. Yet Jones's -mouth watered at
mention of kesk'soo, while nothing short of a
European hotel meal, with napery and attendance,
would have served to stir Smith's wearied imagina-
tion. That was the loss of Smith ; or perhaps, as
Jones would have called it, "his damned gentlemanly
way."

By exactly what manner of devious and down-
ward-tending bypaths a man having such a way with
him had happened upon just Smith's present level
in the social structure, Jones had not yet learned.
A certain indolent reticence was part of the slender
man's way. As for Jones, his little affair was
simplicity itself. He had killed his man in Gibraltar
(though himself modestly deprecated the distinction,
saying, " An' it wasn't a man, when all's said, but
only a snickering Rock-scorp pimp ; a thing in patent-
leather boots an' a pink-striped shirt ; stunk like a
polecat, he did, o' women's scents rot him!") aid
served two years' imprisonment there for man-
slaughter " under great provocation." An English-
Australian sailor, second mate of a tramp, he had
been judged by his peers on the Rock, who admitted
that the creature slain only missed inclusion in the
vermin list "for lack of a tail." His two years
served, Jones had drifted across the Straits, "to grow
my hair," and in Morocco, unfortunately, had taken
to stone-face gin from Hamburg a false and fiery
friend who strews all the world's beaches, and its
forsaken guts and gullies, with the stark victims of its
fierce liaisons.

THE BEACHCOMBERS 65

Jones had become a feature of the town, even as
one of its smells, its fountains, its city-gate beggars,
or the mad f keen of the camel fandak. So had
Smith, slim, languid Smith, whom men had known
by another name in Spain, in London, in Fez and
elsewhere. But this difference lay between the two
as features of the crooked, hiving streets : Jones was
grinned at good-humouredly alike by Moors and
Christians, and that even when cursed by the latter
sort and refused the drink or other alms he sought ;
but Smith was cursed and sneered at without smiles.
A man mostly reaps as he sows, after all, particu-
larly in primitive or barbaric communities. And
Smith dealt openly in listless contempt, and in the
snarls of stung pride, cracked self-respect, and vanity
scotched and mutilated, albeit breathing and bleeding
still.

" And to think it's come to this," muttered Smith
in his sand-bed, when Jones's retreating figure had
dwindled to the smallness of a locust a locust show-
ing black, not yellow, upon that sun-bleached ribbon
of sand. " By the Lord, I couldn't creep much
lower! A kind of partner with that with this beggar ;
and and a mighty poor partner at that ; doing less
than a share of the work. Grrr ! Why haven't I
ended it all before now ? Liquor ! Don't I know
the whole miserable round? I don't even hanker
after liquor. By Heaven! I desire no other thing
than an end to it all."

The man rose in sections, cumbrously as a four-
footed beast leaves the litter for its daily toil. Erect,
he shaded his lack-lustre eyes with one hand a
shapely hand shielding a face by no means unrefined
or ill-looking and gazed out over the sparkling

66 MOROCCO

water-rows which mark the Atlantic's meeting with
the Mediterranean.

Then, with curious, mechanical deliberation, he
began to shed his few garments, his sole remaining
badge of civilisation.

" Fine weather for bathing," he sneered aloud ;
adding then an inarticulate jibe, by way of recognition
of the feebleness of his spoken satire. And now,
suddenly, the dignity of a fixed resolution was
furnished forth upon the face of the man, over-riding
the weakness of its habitual lassitude. He stepped
on, across the hot, powdery sand, to the brown
ribbon that won its colour and firmness from the
action of the uttermost crest of the innermost
breaker, the last of an unending dozen. The beach
shelved steeply here, and the sea sucked hungrily
to draw back each crisp curl of foam it flung upon the
sands.

Smith met the first breaker with his finger-tips, and
emerged on its far side, swimming. A dozen such
short dives and he was becalmed in placid blue
water beyond the breaker line. The thought in his
mind was, " Where's the sense in grinding through
the breakers all this way? Why not have finished
back there among them? But there's time enough.
No one to interrupt one here. Last thoughts, last
wishes, regrets, pros and cons I have no use for such.
I've done all that; thought everything there is to
think about the thing. Now for the end ; rest.
Here goes for the bottom."

He dived, there in the calm, clear water of the
bay, and in his ignorance believed he had taken his
last look at God's green earth, the world of which
his life and temper had so sickened him. He did not

THE BEACHCOMBERS 67

realise that this was to pit the desires of one naked
shred of humanity against great and unalterable
forces of Nature.

Presently he rose, spluttering, angry, gasping and
humiliated, to the sunny surface. He floated idly for
a few minutes. As the good air filled his lungs
again it seemed turned to gall and despair.

" God ! Can't I do even this thing properly ? " he
muttered. " I'll do it among the breakers."

So he headed for the shore, swimming slowly,
rocked luxuriously by the great, unbroken rollers,
which seemed smoothest and most peaceful in the
moment preceding the furious crash with which they
broke, and careened riotously landward in boiling
torrents of white froth. Smith rose with delicious
softness and ease on the back of an enormous roller.
For one instant the whole ocean seemed at rest, the
naked human floating idly high above it. Then the
roller crisped, and broke thunderously, turning the
wisp of humanity completely over and pounding him
under hundreds of tons of white foam.

There was his chance, this little human who
desired death. Death was roaring in his ears now.
So different from diving against and through them
is attempting to swim with and past Atlantic
breakers.

Smith emerged, battered and gasping, in the trough.

" Ough ! Hough ! " He could no more keep back
the gasping cries than he could avoid instinctively
striking out now upon the smooth surface of the
hollow. Two gasps, and with a prodigious roar the
next breaker had him in its tumultuous toils.

The man had no thought of suicide now ; nor life,
death, misery, hope or any other consideration

68 MOROCCO

occupied the mind of him. He was just an in-
significant atom of unthinking human flesh and blood,
beaten, bruised and gasping, struggling blindly,
desperately to reach dry land.

And at the last of it, when all mental consciousness
had departed from him, though he still struggled
feebly, Smith's feet touched bottom, and he staggered,
panting and trembling, to the line of dry sand, across
which he fell on his face, helpless, gasping, with
heaving chest and an unendurable thudding pain in
his left side.

So he lay, through the better part of an hour ; and
the pitiless white sun peeled flakes of grey skin from
off his shoulder-blades, while the more pitiless
damnation of self-knowledge bit into the shaken soul
of him. He was moodily drawing on his trousers,
when the man he called Jones appeared from the
landward side of the old fort.

"He's drunk, noisily drunk fool!" That was
Smith's first thought. " Gad ! he's brought liquor
and grub for me at all events. I am hungry." That
was his second reflection ; and, unlike its predecessor,
this second surmise was correct.

"You see me, Smith?" shouted Jones. "I've
struck oil. I've struck gold nuggets the real thing.
Here, have a drink ! Come along into the old humpy.
I've got to talk an' you've got to listen ; and we may
as well feed. I struck old Bensaquin for this and I'm
goin' to strike him for dollars to-morrow. Oh ! but
I've rung the bell this trip. We are about to retire
from this beach, Mister Smith and live on our means."

" H'm ! I tried the retiring while you were gone,
too, but"

"You tried what? You never set eyes on my

THE ENTRANCE TO A PALACE GARDEN IN MARRAKISH

THE BEACHCOMBERS 69

colour, sonny; you couldn't. It's virgin hey?
Come on in, an' while we feed I'll stake out the
claim/'

Together they entered the old fort, and sat them
down in the embrasure which had sheltered them for
more than three weeks now ; ever since their first
coming together, in fact, wanderers from the poles of
respectability, mutually drawn, it seemed, by the
magnet of vagabondage existing for both in the
tropical no-man's land of the Beach. The beach in
this case happened to be a sea-shore. The Beach is
everywhere, however, south and east of Europe ;
within and without the sound of breakers.

They had Moorish loaves, fried mincemeat on
skewers, a square-face of gin and an earthen jar of
spring water, with a greasy copy of A I Moghreb al-
Acksa for napery. It was with a shrug of disgust,
contemptuous hatred of all his circumstances, that the
smaller man fell to upon the coarse food, but it was
none the less a fact that as the meal progressed this
same course food put fibre into the man's voice and
movement, and light where vacancy had been in his
eyes.

" So you've found a billet, have you ? " said
Smith, when, raw hunger appeased, he began hand-
ling the food with more decent deliberation.

" Found a billet?" echoed the other from a full
mouth. " By the hokey, I've done a deal more than
that. What's a billet? In a country like this, too?
No, sir I've found a fortune. That's what's the
matter with me. A fortune for both of us. Because
you've got to help me lift it ; and, anyway, we're pards,
whack and whack alike. Yes, sir ! What d'ye think of
a cool ten thousand sterling apiece, hey ? Cut a tidy

70 MOROCCO

dash on that, even in the old country, couldn't you ?
My oath ! I shall take a little farm and breed a prad
or two. Queer," he hummed, on a full-fed reminis-
cent sigh ; " but the sight of a mare an' foal always
did fetch me, even back home in th' old days, at
Shoalhaven. That's N.S. W., you know. Ah, h'm ! "
" You haven't been drinking at all, have you,
Jones?" asked Smith, raising the square-face to his
own lips as he spoke.

" Well, I haven't much chance while you're about,"
grinned the other. " But no ; it's not jim-jams,
sonny, but just copper-bottomed, hard-wood cert, and
you can kiss th* Book on that. And now we've fed
I'll tell you. You know there's a new American
Consul-general here; came last month?"
-Yes. Well?"

" Well ! Now this afternoon old Bensaquin met
me in the inner Sok an' gave me a letter to take to
the American Consul ; to be given into his own hands.
Up I goes to the U.S. Consulate, like any gold-
braided Excellency, and asks for the Consul-general.
Engaged with th' commander of the United States
warship lying in th' bay there. I could sit down an'
wait. 'All right,' says I ; an' just strolls out on that
little green balcony an' squats down in th 1 shade.
Next minute I'd pricked up my ears. I was right
under th' Consul-general's window, an' th' shutters
were open, that being the shady side. 'Well,
some one was saying, 'what's the exact amount of
our claims just how anyway ? ' That was th'
commander, I reckoned, because it wasn't th' new
Consul's voice. 'Well, I've worried it down a bit
from the original,' says th' Consul, 'and now it's a
hundred and twenty thousand dollars Moorish, you

THE BEACHCOMBERS 71

know an' not a cent less/ D'ye see? That's
about twenty thousand sterling, isn't it?"

Smith nodded, with a fair show of interest. He
was fed now, and smoking.

" ' H'm,' says th' commander, 'an' you don't want
to present yourself at Court before next year ? ' ' Jes'
so,' says th' Consul. * An' what's more, I don't want
to be enforcing claims then, but making myself
agreeable an' getting concessions.'

" They kep' quiet for a bit, an' then th' commander
took a fresh light for his cigar. Yes, they were as
close as that to the window. ' Well,' says he,
between puffs, * by what I can make of it you'd best let
me play the stern and unforgiving partner, like that
Jorkins chap in Dickens, you know. My orders were to
hang about here while I could be of any use in settling
our outstanding claims, as you know. Well, now, it
don't matter a cent how I personally stand with th'
Sultan. I've no particular use for th' old chap's good
opinion. And I'd rather like to pay another visit to
the Court anyway. I've been in this Moorish racket
before, ye know before you were out o' school-days.
Tell ye what I'll do. I'll jes' steam along as far as
Mogador, putting in at the little ports for a day, just
to show 'em our guns. You send a courier to the
Court with word that I await cash settlement of our
claims at Mogador. Say my orders from Washington
are all-fired peremptory. Say my ship'll wait one
month on th' coast, an' that you fear I shall then
come personally for settlement at Marrakish; and
that failing cash up then, me bein' a brutal sailor chap,
I'm likely to proceed to th' bombardment of the coast
towns. I tell you that's the only way to talk to these
beggars. You can rely on me. I know this country

72 MOROCCO

all ends up. And at th 5 month's end, off I go with
my little caravan to Marrakish. You'd better say a
fortnight, just to stir 'em. But I'll wait a month
really. You jes' tell th' old huckster, in the name of
the United States, he's got to stump up to th' last
cent into th' hands of Commander Hawkins. I'll do
th' rest. How's that?'

" Well, they palavered a bit more, an' th' Consul-
general he reckoned it was a great scheme. * That
courier shall start for th' Court to-night, captain/ says
he. And so they settled it ; an' presently I got my
letter delivered an' cleared off to old Bensaquin for
backsheesh, thinkin' th' thing out in my mind as I
went along. * Now,' says I to myself, 'here's twenty
thousand pounds as good as goin' a-beggin'. Twenty
thousand isn't here nor there to th' U.S. Government
anyway. But it 'ud be th' devil an' all of a fine thing
for Smith an' me th' makin' of us. It's lying round
kind of loose in this old Bible-story country.' Now
what do I want to get th' fingerin' of it? I want
mighty little. There's mighty little 'twix me an'
twenty thousan' notes. I want a partner; a gentle-
manly sort of chap who knows th' native gab inside
out. That's one thing. Then I want just enough
money to take me an' my pard down to Mogador, in
th' wake of that U.S. warship ; to let us land as though
from th' warship, one of us in some sort of uniform,
for choice, an' get together half a dozen Moors an'
animals, with a little grub, an' th' loan of a few guns.
An' then, hey for Marrakish, me an' my partner!
that is th' secretary an' th' U.S. commander; an'
an' whose goin' to stop me comin' back with that
twenty thou'? By the hokey, sonny, it's just the
deadest bird that ever was hey ! '

THE BEACHCOMBERS 73

" It's a most ingenious scheme," said Smith, slowly,
" a most ingenious scheme ; and upon my soul, I
almost wish it could be worked."

" Wish it could what ? "

" Yes, wish we could have worked it. The money
would be a deal more good to us than to the States.
But, of course, it can't be done. You don't seriously
think it could be done, do you ? "

" Seriously think ! Why, holy smoke, what else
d'ye think I've bin talking for? Think it could be
done! Man, th' thing'll do itself. Old Bensaquin
will advance th' ready. I'll tell him th' whole thing,
halving th' amount, an' we'll promise him two an' a
half each. Do it when you've got th' language at
your fingers'-ends, an* I've got all th' particulars. My
colonial ! You don't seem to see what a clipper-
rigged scheme this is. Why, what in blazes is there
to stop us doing it ? "

"The thing's on your nerves, Jones, that's why
you don't see it. It's stealing, my dear man;
common or garden theft."

" Oh, rats ! Are we in a kid-glove sort of a posi-
tion on this beach ? An' who'd lose by it, anyway ? "

"We should. Penal servitude, Jones; a long
period."

Smith was chewing his moustache feverishly, and
his thoughts, with maddening persistence, ran upon
pictures of himself bowling down golden Piccadilly in
a hansom to open a bank account with ten thousand
pounds. Not to Franois Villon himself did money
ever seem more sweetly desirable than it seemed to
this plexus of irresolution who, a few hours earlier,
had set out to quit this world for one in which money
probably is not. Yet he spoke reasonably and with

74 MOROCCO

indifferent wisdom, you see ; and habit lent an
indolent aloofness to his words which chilled Jones to
the bone. Poor Jones, with his cheery muscularity,
his crudeness, and his simple desire to win clear of
the beach and acquire a competence!

Jones returned to the attack then, chilled and
feeling that the odds were against him. He was no
thought-reader, or student of such indicative minutiae
as the moustache-chewing practice, but just a plain,
kindly, rather gross man, full to the throat of a
scheme of golden promise that, to him, seemed
morally legitimate as sea-fishing or smuggling he
ranked such things as equal and that no doubt was
as morally legitimate as the commercial cornering of
foodstuffs on change.

"You've lost nerve, Smith," he said, " and that's
what spoils your eye for th' colour in this scheme. It's
not the scheme's fault. Th 1 scheme'll wash every
time, an' don't you forget it. But this forsaken beach
has sapped your nerve, an' you're just seein' things
when you talk of penal servitude. Why, man, I
could carry this thing through with both hands tied
behind me. It's binnacle-steering work. Penal
servitude ! Penal blazes ! Why "

He talked a good deal in that strain ; and at the
end of it Smith said languidly, "It's simply common
theft, just robbery, none the less."

Then Jones rose, shaking fragments of food from
his great loose frame as he did so, and strolled out
before the ruined fort in time to see the moon rising,
slow and silvery, from behind the Hill of Apes. He
was whistling in a disjointed, discordant manner.
But Jones lacked his companion's training in indiffer-
ence the training that comes of habit. He had

THE BEACHCOMBERS 75

really risen to hide the fact that there were tears of
hot disappointment in his eyes. And he had not
hidden it. Suddenly a hand fell upon his shoulder
lightly, a small hand, used gently, in Smith's " damned
gentlemanly way."

"Look here, Jones, don't grizzle! I'll do it. I'll
go with you."

" You will ? You'll work it with me ? God bless
you ! Give us your hand on it ! "

"Eh? Oh, that's all right. I daresay it's right
enough. As well one thing as another," said Smith,
listless as ever now the step was taken. Jones had
not heard his barefooted approach, but had swung
violently round at the touch of Smith's hand. And
so the thing was settled.

" Ye see, I never could've attempted it without
you," explained the now jubilant Jones. " Even the
Sultan wouldn't be such a Juggins as to take me for a
naval swell ; whereas you, Smith, dashed if I shouldn't
take you for something tony in th' gold-laced, Govern-
ment House line myself."

" Would you ? " murmured Smith, as a bored
man acquiesces in a tea-table comment on the
weather.

"And then there's th' lingo, you see. You'll be
able to do the talking."

" Yes ; I shall be able to do the talking, certainly.
Do you know, I think I'll go to sleep now."

" Sleep ! Oh, well, all right, old man ; as you like.
I shall get into the city and tackle old Bensaquin.
There's no time to lose."

"Just so. I'll say good-night, then. I wouldn't
give the show away more than I could help. Your
Barbary Jew's a snaky beast."

76 MOROCCO

So they parted, Jones striding off in the moonlight,
uplifted and elate, Smith retiring to the flaky-walled
embrasure which was home to them both, and there
stretching himself full length upon the sand.

" Rum beggar, my word ! " quoth soaring Jones.
" These Old Country gentlemen tss, tss ! But I
guess the real thing's in him. Smoke ! if I can only
rummage up something gilt-edged in the way of a
uniform ! "

An hour later saw him closeted with Bensaquin
the Hudi, in the heavily barred and bolted cupboard
in which that venerable son of Israel lived and carried
on his varied and delectable concerns.

The Jew proved wary and cautious, yet amenable.
He even improved upon Jones's scheme by managing,
through the good-nature of an American with whom
he had business, to secure passages to Mogador for
the two Christians aboard the United States warship
Hiawatha, Commander Hawkins. And as the com-
manders of men-of-war do not look to take fares, this
meant that the American Government gave free board
and lodging, and a safe convoy through the initial
stages of their adventure, to two persons bent upon
diverting from the said Government's coffers the sum
of twenty thousand pounds sterling.

Honest Jones was tickled to the deepest shallows
of his simple soul by this aspect of the business, and
ate for three at the petty officers' mess. American
sailors fare plenteously and well. Even Smith
seemed languidly amused and pleased, while his com-
panion in crime was made literally to swell from pride
when, on a perfect May morning off Rabat, Com-
mander Hawkins himself called Smith to his side
upon the quarter-deck and engaged that polite adven-

THE BEACHCOMBERS 77

turer in friendly and apparently interested conversation
about Morocco and Smith's business there !

This was the first of several amiable chats for
Smith. Once or twice it happened that Jones was
present in the flesh at these meetings. I say in the
flesh, because mentally he could not have been said
to take part. Commander Hawkins ignored him
with a rudeness most exquisitely polite. Just before
the end, the commander happened casually upon
Smith alone, and addressed the young man genially,
as usual. After various remarks,

" Er your er Mr Jonah, I think you said his
name was ; may one ask how er what you "

" Mr Jones Jones is my partner, sir." Smith's
eyes met those of the commander, levelly, without
compromise.

" Ah ! I understand. Quite so. Good-morning,
Mr Smith."

The captain resumed his promenade. " Misguided
young ass, all the same, one fancies. But they are
loyal, these young Englishmen. Quite the public-
school glare he gave me young fool ! If that Jones
is not however, it's not one's own funeral, of course."

Smith and Jones were duly landed in the man-of-
war's launch at Mogador. In that they spread them-
selves as much as possible. Then, as unobtrusively
as might be, they made their ways to the house of a
Jewish merchant, a correspondent of Bensaquin's.
Animals and a few Moors were there engaged, and
that afternoon a little caravan rode out of the town
bound for the Court at Marrakish. Smith was the
central figure, mounted on a showy horse and dressed
in a Spanish military uniform, tarnished yet fine, the
worse for wear, but ornately frapped and gilded.

78 MOROCCO

The Jewish merchant had his instructions. Native
gossip was to be set moving; and native gossip
would travel to the Court faster than Smith and
Jones could hope to make the journey.

It was a queer embassy without a doubt ; but)
once clear of the coast, appearances mattered little.
Smith was the American commander ; Jones, the
bubbling and elated, merely his secretary and lieu-
tenant. Yet the chief was the mouthpiece of all
orders, even to their cook ; and, as a fact, the captain
of the expedition was Jones. Jones had no Arabic.
That was the loss of him. But as sheer indolence
made Smith transmit his partner's orders almost
literally, they were fairly peremptory and vivid, even
at second hand.

One day out from Marrakish the two met a
courier jogging toward the coast, the heels of his
stained slippers pulled well up, his staff sticking out
from the back of his neck, the slack of his crimson
trousers tucked into his girdle and a big palmetto
satchel upon his shoulders.

"This chap's a Sultan's special courier, I fancy,"
said Smith.

" Is he, by God ! Hi ! Stop him, partner."

Smith obeyed.

" Make him turn out his swag."

" It's as much as his life's worth."

" Well, that's not as much as twenty thou'."

Under pressure, the Moor revealed a great sealed
letter addressed in Arabic to Commander Hawkins.

" Tell him that's you, and read it," said Jones.

The commander, in his tarnished finery, read
aloud a flowery list of excuses, fair promises, requests
for delay, and the rest of the stock cant with which

THE BEACHCOMBERS 79

his Shareefian Majesty wards off pressing claims upon
his treasury.

" H'm ! All right. Pocket the letter, partner, and
get that fellow to tail on to our crowd. We must
make some show entering the city to-morrow."

The thing was done as the real chief ordered.
The languid gentleman in uniform made it so.

At daybreak next morning two of the followers
were sent on ahead to herald the approach of this
illustrious mission.

"Tell them to lay it on pretty thick, partner.
Say the Americano is mighty wrathy, and must have
his audience to-day, or to-morrow at latest, else back
we go to the coast to prepare for bombardment."

Again Smith made it so, and the main body of the
caravan moved slowly forward.

Now it happened at this particular juncture that
the Prophet's lineal descendant, his Shareefian
Majesty at Marrakish, was in a chill tremor of anxiety
anent the action of the infidel upon his south-eastern
frontier. It did appear to the Sultan that the years
of the French " creep in" upon his decadent realm
were about to end in a final snap which would send
three columns hurtling into Fez from Ain Sefra, and
establish the tricolour in place of the blood-red emblem
of pretended Moorish integrity. Therefore, argued
the simply crafty potentate, let me by all manner of
means kowtow to all other Nazarene pigs and
particularly those not allied to the French pigs.

Our adventurers were hospitably and respectfully
welcomed at the city gates, before a chevaux-de-frise of
gory rebels* heads, and immediately beneath the
Nazarene's Hook, that hideous spike upon which
gentle Moulai Ismail of honoured memory loved to

80 MOROCCO

impale Christian captives, pour passer le temps, and
by way of impressing his puissance upon their
surviving fellows.

The American Bashador was to be received on
the morrow, announced the salaaming m'kaddem.
Meantime, would his Excellency and suite deign to
find entertainment in his Sacred Majesty's most
palatial guest-house ? To this his languid Excellency
consented with an admirably official nod, playing his
part, all unconsciously, to a miracle. His Excellency's
secretary had wit enough to recognise the superlative
verisimilitude of his partner's rendition of the part ;
yet, for himself, could not for his life refrain from the
gushing urbanity of a Regent Street shop-walker
when acknowledging this city-gate welcome, and
hugging to himself all that it meant in the out-work-
ing of his scheme. But, fortunately for the success of
his plans, the simple soul had not a word of 'Arabic
beyond " Thank you!" and "Get away!"

Bright and early on the morrow, too early, as
Downing Street reckons time, even for the taking of
the morning tub, his American Excellency was
summoned to the Sacred Presence. In view of the
urgency of the matter in hand, and, to be accurate, of
his Serenity's cold perspiration over news from his
south-east frontier, the audience was to be a private
one ; in a room of the palace, that is, and not a-horse-
back in a courtyard, with the harassing accompani-
ments of gun-firing and discordant fanfares, such as
the Sultan orders when in good heart.

Only the Eyebrow, or Chamberlain, the Grand
Wazeer, and the usual more or less hidden circle of
slaves were in attendance upon the Prophet's
descendant when he first clapped eyes upon Messieurs

THE BEACHCOMBERS 81

Smith and Jones, the former at ease in his elaborate if
slightly archaic Spanish uniform, the latter dis-
sembling his nervous eagerness, as one supposes he
thought, by alternately scowling like a stage pirate
and washing his hands in mid-air after the fashion set
by retailers of inexpensive feminine attire.

His American Excellency, using the Moghrebin
with colloquial fluency, greeted the Parasol, and
stated the claim of the United States of America
more listlessly than the average man orders soda-
water at the breakfast-table.

His Shareefian Majesty, having tremulously taken
snuff on the fork of his thumb, was understood to
murmur graciously the wish that his illustrious visitor
might attain great longevity. Regarding the incon-
siderable trifle just mentioned, the Eyebrow explained
with gusto that a messenger bearing with him the
120,000, in panniers, was even then on his way to the
coast in search of his American Nobility.

Nobility smiled satirically and translated to his
secretary. The secretary, throwing aside his earlier and
linen-draping manner, assumed the mien of a mediaeval
executioner, and said, in a hoarse English whisper,
" Tell him he's a liar, and show him his own letter.
Remember what the commander told the Consul ; it's
the only way to treat these beggars."

Still smiling, " My scribe sayeth," murmured Smith
to the Eyebrow, "that your Excellency is a liar. He
also remindeth me of this thy letter, which reached
me not at the coast, but on the road hither. In this
is no mention of money save in the way of pro-
crastination, the which I am bound to tell you my
Government order me to respond to only from out
the mouths of the great guns upon my ship."
F

82 MOROCCO

Again his Shareefian Sublimity attempted to take
snuff, but, as though to keep his sacred knees in
countenance, the puissant right hand of Allah's
Anointed trembled so violently that the precious stuff
was all spilled 'twixt mother-o'-pearl tube and royal
nose.

The Eyebrow ventured tentatively to bluster a
little upon the personal point of honour. This was
suppressed, however, by an impatient movement of
the Sultan's. " A mistake has been made. Your
Excellency shall receive the money by royal courier
within the moon."

His Excellency translated, and, prompted by his
secretary, replied, "The Sun and Moon of all the
Faithful misunderstands us. Our instructions are
urgent and definite. We set out for the coast
to-morrow morning. The money must be paid over
to us, in panniers, this afternoon, and an escort pro-
vided from his Shareefian Majesty's soldiers to guard
us and the money on our way out of Marrakish.
We go in any case. If with the money, in all peace
and content; without it, the "

The sacred snuffbox jerkily intervened. The
Eyebrow bent his head to catch Majesty's murmurs.
" The money will be paid and the escort provided this
afternoon. Your Excellency has his Serene Majesty's
gracious permission to take your leave of him, and he
wishes that your Excellency may live," etc.

Smith carelessly voiced a hope with reference to
Majesty's shadow, and the incident was closed, the
audience terminated.

"A hundred and twenty thousand dollars in
panniers this afternoon to-day ! Jee-wosh ! What
a gold-leaf, copper-bottomed miracle ! A hundred "

THE BEACHCOMBERS 83

Thus Mr Secretary Jones to his uniformed commander
in hoarse whispers and as they left the palace
together.

" Yes. Seems all right. Thing worked fairly
well, didn't it?" rejoined the commander.

" Worked fairly well? Great snakes ! I wonder
what you'd call a really first-rate scheme that worked
very well. I don't think you've rightly got on to the
thing. A hundred and "

" Yes, yes ; I know. But there's no need to make
an anthem of it/' said Smith, quietly.

11 No need to Smoke! And they make
anthems in Europe when a king and queen get a
son ! " Jones's feelings were clear and emphatic
enough if his speech was a little involved. His was
indubitably the mind which had conceived the whole
scheme. Upon his initiative entirely, and at each
audacious turn, the thing had been carried through.
Yet, in its out-working, the affair did, in Jones's eyes,
, so resemble a fairy-tale of the lived-happily-ever-
after order, that the man trembled and was overcome
by a dread of its all proving unreal before he could
actually finger the prize.

The hours immediately following upon their
audience at the palace formed a period in his life
never to be forgotten by the man Jones. Wearied
out at length by the outward and visible signs of
his partner's distress, Smith left the perspiring wight
alone in the guest-house, fretting and quaking in an
agony of anxious impatience, and strolled out into
the shaded courtyard to smoke and think.

A severe moralist might have disputed and
objected to the enunciation of the fact, but it never-
theless was a fact, that this reprehensible, this criminal

84 MOROCCO

expedition in which the pair were engaged had done
Smith a world of good, and that both morally and
mentally as well as physically. It is safe to assert, as
a general rule, that to engage one's self in crime is
not good for the soul. Yet, for truth's sweet sake, it
must be repeated that his share in this buccaneering
and fraudulent quest had infinitely purged the moral
nature and heightened the mental stature of the man
who had found suicide too much for him on the
beach before the old ruined fort.

" Upon my soul ! " he muttered to himself, " but
this is a deuced discreditable business for my father's
son to be engaged upon a most infernally discredit-
able business. I know what I'll do if Allah permits
us to scrape clear with with the swag. I'll get
right away to Australia or America, or yes, gad!
yes to America, of course ! And make a clean
start, and let the Government have my share of this
haul anonymously. Hang it, I've got to live with
myself. One must keep moderately clean.
Conscience money. I've seen the sort of thing in
the Agony column of the Times. Gad! but I'll do
it, too. As for Jones poor old Jones! A most
excellent chap in his way. He won't know his hands
are dirty, and so, in a way, I suppose, they won't be.
And it'll very likely make quite a worthy, rate-paying
sort of citizen of Jones. It's all a matter of the point
of view. I honestly believe he'd cut his hand off
rather than rob an individual. Oh, Lord, here he
comes, with his nail-biting sweat of nervousness!
Ah, Jones ! Quite jolly out here in the shade, isn't
it? I suppose our royal escort will be along
presently."

Jones stared in wan amazement at his partner's

THE BEACHCOMBERS 85

sang-froid. "As though it were a porter with our
baggage ! " he exclaimed.

"Well, it's no good grizzling. The thing's all
right. Why, these must be our fellows sure
enough ! "

Into the courtyard then clattered two palace
guards, mounted showily. Behind them a man led a
string of five not overladen mules with iron-clamped
boxes in their shwarries. Behind these again rode a
Court official, and last came a single mounted
guard.

The courtyard gates were closed, the shwarries
were carried into the patio, and the rest of the after-
noon was solemnly devoted to the counting out of one
hundred and nineteen thousand nine hundred and
eighty-seven big bright Moorish dollars. The odd
thirteen, so characteristically on the right side for the
palace, Commander Smith magnanimously forgave.
The money was repacked securely, the palace official
took his departure with laden purse, and the two
Christians passed the night within easy reach of their
prize and its guardians.

Not a hitch of any sort came to justify Jones's
nervous foreboding. The little caravan was under
way shortly after daylight, and the palace guards
accompanied it a good day's march toward the coast.
After their departure the adventurers distributed their
bullion evenly amongst their bedding and provisions,
and so approached Mogador bearing burdens ap-
parently of the most commonplace description.

Twenty miles out from Mogador the party met
another caravan, heading toward Marrakish.
Traders, Smith called them, after a glance at the
little line of hooded white figures and laden pack-

86 MOROCCO

animals. The newcomers drew rein as they reached
our adventurers a common courtesy of the Open
Road calling for no remark.

"The prosperity of the morning to you!" said
Smith, carelessly enough, as the closely-hooded leader
of the caravan ranged alongside him on a big blue
stallion.

"Ah! Yes, one fancied it must be you two.
Don't move, Smith ; don't move, sir. Three of my
followers are American seamen (though they mayn't
look it in this rig) and trophy-holding marksmen.
Present arms, men ; and keep your eyes about you.
Ah, Mr Jonah ! It is Jonah, I think ; or am I
mixing names ? You will be so good as to dismount,
Mr Jonah. Smith, get down. We will camp here
for an hour, just to see that the bullion for my
Government is all shipshape. Bo'sun ! " One of the
hooded figures of the caravan slid smartly from his
beast, cast his djellab, and came to the salute as
upon Commander Hawkins's own quarterdeck a
trimly-uniformed petty officer of the United States
Navy.

" Upon my word," resumed Commander Hawkins,
the leader, " I am half inclined to think it all
nonsense, this notion that one must wear Moorish
dress in travelling here. You may take this garment,
bo'sun, and just pitch my little tent sharp as you
like."

The commander had drawn off his all-cloaking
djellab, and now displayed his fine figure in trim,
warm weather mufti. The tent pitched: "Just see
to our friend Mr Jonah, and and the things, bo'sun.
Mr Jonah, perhaps you will rest awhile with my men
here ; good, clean American sailormen every one, Mr

THE BEACHCOMBERS 87

Jonah. No doubt you will find topics of mutual
interest. Now, Smith, just step inside here with me,
if you please. One finds serious conversation almost
indecent in such a glare of sunlight." The com-
mander motioned Smith to a camp-stool, and sat
himself cross-legged upon another, facing it. "Now,
first of all, have you the dollars with you, Smith ? " he
asked pleasantly.

"Yes," replied Smith, somewhat gloomily but
with composure.

" Ah ! The whole lot, intact ? "

" Thirteen short of the hundred and twenty
thousand."

" Really ! One is moved to compliment you,
Smith. You really did remarkably well. One knows
something of that Court and its methods. And now
tell me, Smith, what in the name of simplicity induced
you to allow your er your mission to become
common native talk in Mogador ? "

"That! Oh, Jones insisted on that as a means
of letting rumour pave the way for us at Court."

" Ah ! Mr Jonah is unfortunate in his influences.
Did it not strike you that the same means might pave
your way to to this meeting after the other ? One's
crew is allowed ashore in batches, you know. In
that way the rumour naturally reached one in time.
It was your scheme's weak point, this contribution of
Mr Jonah's, don't you think? "

" Oh, as to that, I think his scheme was pretty
sound for a simple-minded man. He is a singularly
good-hearted, simple soul at bottom in spite of
though you find us "

"Ah! one somehow guessed it. Then the whole
scheme was Mr Jonah's. One could almost have

88 MOROCCO

sworn it. You er made the acquaintance on bed-
rock, so to say, Smith ? Deep spoke to deep, eh
and that sort of thing ? "

" He's a thoroughly good sort, really," said Smith,
half in aggression and half pleadingly.

" H'm ! Just so. Well, now, Smith, one does
not want unnecessarily to humiliate white men,
particularly before natives. There must be no
attempt at er at leaving this party, if you please.
We can look further into matters on board. In the
meantime keep cool and go straightly. Smith. Never
despair. One feels bound to say that one gave you a
hint about the undesirable character of your partner-
ship quite a while back, on board. However now
keep cool, Smith. We are both entitled to our own
opinions about the wholesomeness for you of Mr
Jonah's intimacy. Meantime, sir" and here the
commander's voice took on a sudden solemnity, a
grave dignity very impressive to hear "be thankful,
be very thankful, that things are as they are, and you
where you are. You are free now of that dirty
load from the palace. It has reached its true
destination and is in the right hands. Be you very
thankful for that."

" Why, frankly, I have been since the moment I
recognised you. I meant to make for your country,
anyhow, and However, that won't interest you."

His real thought was : "You won't believe that I
meant to repay my share, so I won't bother telling
you." But the commander was a far-seeing sailorman,
shrewd, Bohemian, and with a temper of ripe and
catholic benevolence.

Smith did presently reach America, and under his
own name too which brings one upon the heels

THE BEACHCOMBERS 89

of quite another story. Under his own name, Smith
was Commander Hawkins's private secretary. And
Jones, the last I heard of simple-minded Jones, was
that he had shipped from 'Frisco as mate of an island
brig bound for Honolulu.

UNDER THE RED FLAG

ALL men cannot be courtiers, even in " The Land
of the Afternoon," and, of course, there are
some powers in the country outside the neighbour-
hood of the Exalted Presence. There are, firstly, the
provincial governors who purchase their posts from
the Minister of the Interior, or, in a few cases, are
appointed by our Lord himself, by way of reward for
services rendered, for rare presents given, or, in the case
of a man of Shareefian blood or a possible rival, as a
dismissal from Court. In the interior these governors
inhabit great ksor, or castles, which are really small
villages enclosed by a fortified wall, and built about
the central residence of the governor himself. In his
own district the power of one of these governors is
supreme, maintained by his own soldiers, and suffici-
ently demonstrated by punishment in his own prison
for who should doubt it. At intervals a governor is
supposed to journey to Court to make his obeisances
to the Presence, and to hand over tribute from his
province to the Sultan's treasury, besides presents to
his Lord and to the watchful army of Court idlers. If
such visits are not sufficiently frequent or profitable to
the Sultan, the backward governor is invited to attend
without delay. If, in response to such an invitation,
he brings but a light token of his fealty, his visit ends
in a dungeon, troops are sent to ransack his kasbah
for treasure, and within a day or so his post, his

90

UNDER THE RED FLAG 91

residence, his women, chattels and gleanings of every
sort and kind are sold, practically to the highest
bidder, probably to some trusted former adherent who
has managed to accumulate gear during his reign, and,
having heard of his superior's summons to Court, has
journeyed thither himself with full hands and well-
laden pack animals.

The present writer knows one intelligent Moor
who has twice occupied the position of a lesser
monarch in this way, ruling a countryside as absolute
autocrat thereof, and who at this moment is pleased if
he find bread twice a day and a blanket for chilly
nights in the reeking dungeon which he shares with a
score and more of other chained unfortunates. His
crime was that " Father " Ahmad, the late iron-handed
Wazeer el Kabeer and Regent, considered that his
yield of tribute to the State coffers was a good deal
less than might have been squeezed out of his district.
So Ba Ahmad invited my friend to Court, and, being
a temperate man and always averse to any unneces-
sary taking of life, did not follow the quite ordinary
custom of handing the governor corrosive sublimate
in his tea, but merely threw him into an underground
granary and had him industriously flogged, with a
view to extorting information regarding hidden
treasure. The governor, whether from innocence or
obstinacy, kept a stiff upper lip, and took his daily
meed of punishment without comment.

Presently, " Father" Ahmad being a practical, if
not a merciful, man, the floggings ceased, and when
the month of Ramadan was well passed, and the mire
of the tracks dried, his Shareefian Majesty's troops,
directed by Ba Ahmad, proceeded to "eat up" my
friend's district, among others, in the course of the

92 MOROCCO

usual spring forays for taxes. This " eating up" is a
temperate phrase enough, and annually justified by
fact. The Shareefian troops do leave little more in a
countryside which they have thrashed for taxes than
a swarm of locusts would leave in a bed of mint upon
which they had called a noon-day halt. Their most
approved method of settling a question as to the
existence of hidden treasure in a village is to capture
the inhabitants, lop off the heads of the men, for
pickling and spiking upon the gates of their Lord's
capitals, preserve the young women, burn the village
to the ground, dig up its foundations, in case of buried
money, and leave no living thing where that village
stood, beyond its scavengers, the pariah dogs. To
ride through a recently-chastised district in the wake
of the Sultan's army is to journey with a sore heart,
and, unless one goes well laden, with empty bellies
for man and beast. But these visitations do not spell
revolution, or civil war, or anything at all like it.
They were written, they come when and as Allah
permits, and there's an end of it. Fatalism is talked
of in Europe. It is only in the world of Islam that it
is understood, felt and lived. With us of paler
Christendom it is an article of faith that the meek are
blessed for that "they shall inherit the earth"; that
they who mourn or are poor in spirit, and persecuted,
are also blessed ; also that no sparrow may fall from a
housetop without the cognisance of God the Father
and Comforter. These beliefs are a part of religion
in Europe. They, and others like them, are the basis
of life in Morocco. Christians extol the enduring
faith of Job. Mohammedans imitate and equal it in
daily life. We of Christendom profess to hold earthly
treasures baubles, and wear out our lives, and the

UNDER THE RED FLAG 93

lives of others whom we retain to help us, in the
search for such treasure, and in its accumulation.
The sorriest beggar in all Morocco, the most ignorant
dolt in the Soudan, proves by his life, and often by
his death, that our empty profession is his living
belief. And his philosophy of fatalism, if rooted, as
Westerners are wont to affirm, in laziness and indif-
ference (it is really rooted in the fact that his religion
is actual, real and literally genuine to him), is dignified
and marvellously enduring.

"It seems the pesky thing will wash, anyway ! "
said a well-known American, speaking of the same
philosophy after watching a chained file of prisoners
squatting on their ham-bones in pitiless sun glare in
the Sok, or market-place, at Mogador. They were
starved and chain-galled, these men, with bruised
bodies and blood - encrusted feet. Four of their
number had died on the march, their dead heads
having then been cut off that their bodies might clear
the connecting chain. Their crime was that their
kaid had not paid sufficient tribute to the Sultan.
Now, as they squatted in the shadeless market-place,
a passer-by occasionally gave one a dish of water that
he might moisten his parched throat and blackened
lips withal. The man so relieved would murmur a
"God be with thee." Not a single murmur could be
heard among his unrelieved fellows, who calmly, im-
passively stared straight before them, or answered
evenly enough the casual remark of a bystander,
smoked if the wherewithal were given them, or failing
this were as sedately reflective and dignified without.
Their religion and the fatalistic philosophy born of it
were not mere professions with these men.

I well remember, during an early visit to Morocco,

94 MOROCCO

making a short journey with a Moor of repute and
standing in his own town. At night we were enter-
tained by a village sheikh, a friend of my companion's,
and a man who interested me greatly.

" How did you come to know Sheikh Mohamet ? "
I asked my companion as we jogged out of the village
in the dawning next day.

" Oh, I met him in prison some years ago Tetuan
prison it was. He was a stranger there and his
people had not reached Tetuan. And so he had no
food or blankets. He shared mine, and we became
friends."

The matter of course nonchalance of it all !
Imagine yourself asking an equal, a fellow clubman,
a similar question, and receiving as answer: "Oh,
Robinson ? I met him in gaol. We were at Worm-
wood Scrubbs together." And Robinson the mayor of
his town, remember. In this connection I must set
down here the yarn of an English friend of mine and
his friend, Sheikh Abd el Majeed. I give it as my
friend gave it me.

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH

YOU will understand, of course, that I was no
stranger to Morocco at the time of the story.
A new arrival in Sunset Land is necessarily blind to
much that goes on in that singular survival of
patriarchal days which lies within sight of southern
Europe. And he must walk warily if he would keep
a whole skin and live to walk elsewhere.

I was camping at the foot of Ain Sfroo during a
very leisurely pilgrimage from the interior toward
Tangier ; beautiful sea-girt Tangier, where the English
and other infidels do congregate; "the city given
over to dogs, and the spawn of dogs," as Believers
pleasantly put it. My head man, Boaz (a jewel for a
journey), had hit upon an ideal spot for our little camp.
Behind us the jagged peaks of the Ain Sfroo soared
and towered into the sky-line. Before my own tent
a gnarled old olive, cruddled and bowed like an eighty-
year-old field labourer at home, gave me pleasing
shelter. Close beside my servants' tent ran a little
brook of merry, brown mountain water ; and all round
and about us the foot-hills met the plain in a stretch of
verdure, so clear and pleasant to the eye that one
fancied it had been a bowling-green of the gods ; of
some sportive community of Djinnoon, let us say.

I fancy I had dozed for a few moments (I had
taken no siesta that day, and we had ridden, albeit in
leisurely style, since dawn) when the sound of strange

95

96 MOROCCO

voices, and the clean, quick footsteps of mules roused
me, and I saw that a party of strangers were about to
pitch their camp for the night within a hundred yards
of where I lay, attracted no doubt by the beauty and
fitness of the spot for that purpose.

" Who comes ? " said I, lazily, to Boaz, who was
stewing a chicken for me over a charcoal brazier.
Boaz had evidently taken stock of the newcomers and
already exhausted his interest in them, for he replied
languidly,

" Four dssdseen" (Guards), "and one who is
already twice dead and buried."

I thought this good enough to sit up for,
and I noticed then that in the midst of the four
mounted men two rode mules, pack-laden, and two
were on gaunt horses, with high scarlet-peaked saddles
was one afoot, his wrists bound with palmetto cord
to the stirrups of a rider upon either side.

"What then?" said I to Boaz. "Who is the
Mead man'?"

" It is Sheikh Abd el Majeed " (Sheikh Slave
of the Glorious, that is) "of Tazigah; not for long a
Sheikh, b'Allah, since it is but three moons since his
father died May God have forgiven him ! and now
now you see him ! "

I was interested. I had known city-gate beggars
in Morocco who had been Bashas or Governors of the
towns they begged in. Also, I had known a water-
pedlar who became a great Wazeer and ended his
days, after enjoying great power and riches, in a
particularly noisome dungeon in Marrakish. So this
captive at the soldiers' stirrups was the young Sheikh
of Tazigah. I had been in Tazigah, disguised as a
Moorish woman of the peasant class (I confess to

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 97

some pride in the statement, which perhaps two other
Nazarenes might truthfully make), and knew something
of the queer savage border-land town it was. You
see the Kaid of the Ain Sfroo province is the nominal
ruler of the whole of the Ain Sfroo, and, as a fact, does
rule and extort taxes right up to the very outskirts
of this same town of Tazigah. Into the town itself
his myrmidons have not yet pierced. Beyond it,
men laugh at Basha, Kaid and Sultan alike, never
having paid a tax, save to their own brigands, and hold-
ing that the gun, the knife, and the strong right arms of
mountain-bred men are in themselves the law and its
dministration and its penalties. Stern, hardy, free
men are they ; and the Tazigs of Tazigah, they claim
e same sort of immunity. But their claim is not, as
ith that of the mountaineers beyond, undisputed,
'azigah is on the border-line. But for the young
>heikh of Tazigah to be bound to the stirrups of
ascals of the Kaid's guard this was woeful, I
lought.

" They must surely have caught him outside the
own ? " I said to Boaz.

" Ay, at the house of that crawling son of the
legitimate Hamed Fasi, I believe," replied Boaz,
urning the chicken in the stew-pan. " But, b'Allah,
"azigah of to-day is not the Tazigah of my day or
tie worms would be eating those same guards by
,ow. But now, you will see, Tazigah will become as
village of the plain, and Kaid Achmet may he ride
ver a little more uneasily, till his bones rot! will
gather his taxes there, as he might in the salted place
f the Jews."

I was not in a position to contradict this prophecy,
o called for the bread and the tea-pot, and settled
G

98 MOROCCO

down to the discussion of a somewhat elderly but
admirably-cooked chicken, while Boaz and his comrades
courted surfeit upon some three-year-old meat, pre-
served in rancid butter, and some fritters which seemed
to possess all the properties of oil-skin, or very thick
waterproofing material of some sort.

Dinner ended, I lit a cigarette, and bade Boaz
convey to the neighbouring guides, with my salaams,
some tea and sugar, and a certain tin of sweet biscuits
of a sort that no Moor I had ever met could resist.
Word of the guards' gratification being duly brought
to me, I allowed a decent interval to elapse, and then,
followed by Boaz and his two assistants, strolled
down the slope to the tent of the soldiers and their
captive. The idea of the pinioned young Sheikh
possessed me.

" Peace be upon ye, O Believers! What news ol
ye? Nothing wrong with ye?" And so forth, ac-
cording to custom, I showered the usual salutations
upon the four brigands (for Raid's guards all through
Morocco are nothing better than brigands), received
their orthodox responses, and was bidden welcome.
A place of honour was cleared for me upon a ragged
carpet before the tent-pole, and some of my own tea
was poured out for my delectation, in a little blue,
gold and crimson mug, such as I have seen children
in England place before their dolls. A sprouting
head of mint was in the pear-shaped metal tea-pot, and
one drank a spoonful of sugar to two of the decoction,
making hideous noises with one's lips the while, and
gasping after a drink as though choking from
delighted surfeit. This if one would be truly
courteous.

Opposite the tent-pole, on the side farthest from

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 99

the entrance, I saw lying Sheikh Abd el Majeed.
The young man was stretched upon his right side,
his wrists bound behind him to a stake at the edge of
the tent, and his ankles bound together with palmetto
cord. In his eyes one read something of the dignified
philosophy with which all Mussulmans the world over
meet misfortune, and a good deal of haughty contempt
for the persons and methods of those who had brought
him low ; and at the back of all else one saw some-
thing of the indescribable horror and loathing which
the semi-savage feels for the state of captivity. Bill
Sykes probably does not like a cell at Holloway ; but
I fancy it must be less objectionable to him than an
eighteen-penny cage to a skylark, or pinioned captivity
to a Tazigah Moor. And Abd el Majeed was born a
chief, you will remember.

I gave him sympathetic greeting with my eyes,
as far as I could make those organs express my
feelings ; and I thought he understood, and returned
me a not ungrateful glance from his own heavily-
fringed big eyes, which in that light appeared as black
as sloes, and far more glossy. Speaking then as one
entirely without information on the subject, I ventured
upon inquiries regarding the prisoner. The chief of
the soldiers answered me with unhesitating candour,
and as though the prisoner himself, being already a
corpse, had no longer hearing or any other sense to
be offended.

" Ihyeh ; that's the young Sheikh o' Tazigah ;
and him the Kaid has desired to entertain these many
moons. His body should mean dollars in our pockets,
sure enough ; and without doubt the trick by which
we won it deserves good pay. We got Hamed Fdsi
to send him word of a horse no man could bestride,

100 MOROCCO

by token that the beast could kick a house from off
his back, and if the house could have been builded
there. Now, as all men know, the vanity of the
Sheikh was that mare never dropped the foal he could
not handle, and ride, and cow withal. The Sheikh
came down from Tazigah, as if to his wedding, and
crafty Hamed had him soon astride my chestnut
there, a heavy-headed, peaceful beast, that would not
kick a snapping dog, but will go down on his knees
when I tell him, like any camel. * Down, Daddy
Big-head,' I shouts from my place behind Hamed's
cow-shed. And in a moment the four of us were
upon the Sheikh, while crafty Hamed picks up the
gun the young man had propped against the house-
front. Oh, 'twas undoubtedly a brilliant to-do ; it
should make a song in Ain Sfroo for many a day.
And so there lies the body o' him, and the Raid's
dollars as good as in our pockets. And mind you,
he was no weakling in his life, but a mighty muscular
young man, the Sheikh o' Tazigah. A great capture,
truly ! But these be mere trifles in a soldier's life."

It was rather uncanny, I thought, this use of the
past tense in speaking of the young man who lay
listening, with his great eyes smouldering in the dusk
of the tent. But, to be sure, he had fatalism to support
him, the hardy philosophy of his blood and breeding,
and his belief in a very luscious Paradise for all young
Sheikhs who were true believers. Still, it must have
been a leek to eat for a gallant young man, and well
I knew that the cords that bound him must be a
suffocating torment to Abd el Majeed. Moreover,
there was a large grey mosquito upon the bridge
of his nose, and a drop of perspiration trickling to
the corner of one eye.

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 101

" And what might be the trouble, then ? " I asked.
" What thing hath given an edge to your Raid's
desire to entertain the Sheikh ? "

" Ihyeh, 'tis a double edge, Sidi ; a blade to cut
bone as well as body. The Sheikh is twice dead, as
all here know."

"Ay, so Boaz hath told me," said I, forgetting
my assumption of ignorance in the matter. " But the
forging of the blade what led to it, O brave soldier ? "

" Why, Sidi, that is surely plain to all men ? First,
the Kaid desireth taxes from Tazigah, and so would
have its Sheikh by the heels, and place one of his
own people in that place ; and second, who is to
marry the Raid's daughter now ? "

I started at this. "Why, Allah alone knoweth,
friend," said I. " But what is that to the Sheikh ?"

"Sidi, thy life has surely been led in some far
place. The Sheikh, in his life, was married to our
Raid's daughter. 'Twas thought the thing would
bring Tazigah properly under our master's rule. And
on the morning after his wedding, what did the Sheikh
do but turn his wife away with a paper of divorce, for
all the world to see ; the woman and her bridal gear,
foot and pack, he sent them all bundling down the
hillside to her father's castle again. And there she
hath remained, a catch for who would marry a great
Raid's daughter with a record. What keener edge
would ye have for our Raid's desire to entertain the
Sheikh?"

I nodded. The young Sheikh was in sober truth
" twice dead/' I thought. And if you are curious
regarding the Muslim view of such things, let me
commend to your notice the 24th and 22nd
chapters of Deuteronomy. The Mohammedan

102 MOROCCO

rule is based upon the Jewish, but is milder. Prompt
divorce suffices without stoning. But in the case of
a powerful Raid's daughter " Y' Allah t'if!" I thought.
"The Sheikh is indeed very dead!" And then,
turning my eyes upon his recumbent figure (there is
something which stirs the heart strangely in the
sight of a man lying bound hand and foot, like a brute
prepared for slaughter ; it is his utter helplessness, I
fancy, that moves one's bowels of compassion), I was
startled to note a light of unmistakable appeal in the
black eyes as they met mine. It seemed Abd el
Majeed must have read my thoughts, and his eyes
seemed to say, " Nay, not dead, but maybe dying for
lack of the helping hand of some true man ! "

Almost involuntarily, and certainly without pause
for thought or consideration of the difficulties involved,
I returned the captive's look with a distinct affirmative,
a glance which I well knew said plainly to him, " I
will give that helping hand ; watch thou for me ! "

It was a reckless promise, but, having made it, it
was incumbent upon me to use my best endeavours
to redeem it. Up to that moment I had not given
one fleeting thought to the matter of the prisoner's
possible escape. I had merely felt regret for his poor
case ; regret for the tragedy of things Moorish, the
inevitable tyranny, oppression and suffering of this
most mysterious and romantic of the old-world realms.
But for any attempt at rescue well, if a Nazarene
sets himself to remedy the lot of every unjustly-
oppressed wight he comes upon in the Land of the
Setting Sun, he needs more than the wealth of the
Indies at his back, the enduring strength of an
elephant, the patience of Job, and the sort of philo-
sophy which makes a man impervious to the basest

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 103

sort of ingratitude or treachery. And, with all this,
he may look to succeed in unsettling a few score of
people, and temporarily improving the lot of one in
ten thousand if he live long enough.

But I had passed my word, though no word had
passed my lips.

The syrupy, mint-scented tea was exhausted, so,
in rising to leave my hosts, I promised to send them
a further supply ; and was informed that, for an un-
believer, I was really a most excellent and redoubt-
able person, of very respectable origin and goodly
bearing. I predicted glory, riches, and a sumptuous
pavilion in Paradise for my hosts, each and severally,
and with pious wishes for their well-being in both
worlds took my departure, followed by my trusty Boaz.

On the way back to my tent ideas jostled one
another in my mind, and I am bound to say that none
of them were of much account.

" Now, if only I had some sort of a sleeping-draught
to give them, in place of this tea, that might advance
our case a little," I thought, as I scooped some tea
into a tin for Boaz to carry to the guards. But my
medicine chest was small ; quinine, calomel, and two
tiny bottles half-full of chlorodyne being all that I
possessed in the way of drugs. " Well, well ; better
half a loaf than no bread," I muttered. "Bring the
teapot, Boaz." He brought our large pot and we made
a strong brew of tea. Into this I emptied my two
half bottles of chlorodyne, wondering the while what
the estimable inventor of that soothing drug would
have thought of my dispensing. I remembered that
the stuff had given me sleep more than once in cases
of mild but painful dysentery.

" Boaz!" I growled, with sudden sternness, "you

104 MOROCCO

have some hasheesh in your pouch. Now, don't
deny it ! " I had endeavoured, unsuccessfully, of
course, to wean the man from the use of the drug.
He confessed somewhat sulkily. " Well, then, go
thou and ply the guards with it every particle of it.
And give them this tea. But drink none of it your-
self, and take no hasheesh, for I have work afoot
to-night."

I rather think Boaz saw my game then, for there
was a leer in his eye as he walked off to do my bid-
ding. But I thought I would reserve my confidence
until he had accomplished this first stage of my plan.
I was uncertain what his attitude might be. He had
his own skin to consider, of course, and the arm of
the Kaid of Ain Sfroo was notoriously long, as his
wrath was consuming and ill to meet. I smoked
quietly for half an hour, and listened to the murmurs
of good fellowship which reached me from the guards'
tent. The mosquitoes were exceptionally lively that
evening, and I thought, as I brushed them from my
forehead, of Abd el Majeed, the "dead" Sheikh.

" Poor devil ! " I muttered. " The very next caged
bird I see shall have the door of its prison opened
if I can get near it."

"The heads of mud began to snore before they
had time to lie down," said Boaz, when, after about
forty minutes, he returned and squatted down beside
me. " What work is afoot ? "

Boaz was growing elderly, but, like every other
Arab who ever cried me " Peace ! " his appetite for
strife and adventure was keen as a lad's.

" Boaz," said I ; "a Sheikh of the hills is as good
a man as any Kaid of the plains ! "

" As any six of the plains," agreed Boaz, promptly.

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 105

I knew, of course, that himself was of Sheshawanee,
a hill-man to the last drop of blood in his veins.

" Think ye that the assaseen will sleep soundly,
Boaz ? " was my next question.

" Not so soundly as they might if their stomachs
tasted a mountain man's steel," answered Boaz, finger-
ing the point of his dagger's sheath ; " but pigs and
guards of the plains sleep ever more heavily than
true men ; and when they wake phaa ! Thou hast
seen how pigs are speared on the plain beyond
Spartel ! "

I had, and had even enjoyed a little sport with the
lance myself; but I wanted no sticking done that
night. After all, Raids and their guards are Raids
and their guards ; and consuls in coast towns are not
always upon the side of the adventurous of their
colour.

"Two of them have mules, Boaz," said I, "and
so do not count. The two that have horses "

" Phaa ! Thy horse, Sidi, would leave them
standing like trees ; pass them, and leave them, as
the wind passes a house."

" Ah ! That is as I thought. And the city of Al
Rsar el Rebeer, Boaz, it is well beyond the line of
Raid Achmet's authority no ? "

" Ay, by two days' march."

" Good ! Then you will make my horse ready for
the road, good Boaz. Then bring me my Winchester,
and we will see further."

The horse and the gun were duly brought, and
together we crept down toward the tent of the
Raid's guards. We could hear them snoring from
a hundred yards distant. Fifty paces from the tent
I paused.

106 MOROCCO ,

" You know exactly where the Sheikh lies,
Boaz?"

"As I know my father's house in Sheshawan."

" Go there, on thy belly, cut the Sheikh clear, and
bring him to me."

"I go."

I might have chosen this part of the affair myself,
you think, since undoubtedly there was danger in it ?
Well, yes ; but then, you see, I knew my man. Had
I done this, and left Boaz as onlooker beside my horse,
he would afterwards have despised me for a fool ; and
as he was a very useful servant for travelling work in
Morocco, I could not afford to face that contingency.
Besides, my favourite Winchester rifle was in my
hand, and I knew that, with absolute certainty, I
could drop the first man who was foolish enough to
attack Boaz ; or the first half-dozen, for that matter,
though I had no notion of doing so if I could avoid
it. No ; you must think what you please of it, but
in the presence of my servants I could not afford to
do myself "what Boaz was doing at this moment.

Like a great lizard in the grass he slithered down
the slope to where a slight bulge in the side of the tent
told me the Sheikh lay. Arrived within the shadow
of the tent, Boaz lay still for a few moments. Then
(as I afterwards learned) *he murmured, very low,
"Bal-ak!" Which is to say " Thy mind!" or
" Attention !" Then, getting by way of response a
slight movement from the recumbent figure within,
Boaz very delicately slit the hanging lower edge of
the tent by the Sheikh's head. In a moment the
Sheikh's bound wrists faced him in the moonlight
through the opening he had made. Boaz's dagger
made short work of the wrist fastenings, and was then

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 107

slipped into the Sheikh's outstretched right hand, for
him to work his will upon the cord that held his
feet.

Two minutes later and the Sheikh crawled out
upon the grass beside Boaz. Together they pressed
a sod down upon the severed edges of the tent flap,
and three minutes more brought them to my side.
The Sheikh caught my right hand in both his own,
and I felt his moustache brush my knuckles. It was
not as embarrassing to me as it had been when I was
new to the East and its ways.

"Nay, 'tis nothing, Sheikh," I told him. " Mount
thou the horse here, and get thee to Al Ksar. Give
this card to the English Consul there, and bide ye
within his gates without fail, within his gates till
I come."

It was not the time for conversation. His beard
brushed my hand again, and without a sound he
swung into the saddle, walking my horse gingerly to
win clear of earshot, past which I knew he would try
the beast's paces well enough, in the course of, say,
three and a half days of hard riding. There are no
telegraph wires, police-stations, railways, turnpikes,
or anything of that sort in Sunset Land, and the heads
of provinces have no extradition treaties one with
another. Even in actual warfare the bloody quarrels
of one village are ignored utterly by soldiers and
civilians alike in a village half-a-dozen miles distant.
In the course of time, if Sheikh Abd el Majeed chose
to abide in one place, some gossip from that place
who happened to pass through the Kaid Achmet's
domain would mention the circumstance. Then, if
the Sheikh were worth it, the Kaid might offer his
colleague, who ruled in the place the Sheikh had

108 MOROCCO

chosen to rest in, a share of the plunder if he would
yield up the Sheikh's body. That Kaid would then
approach the Sheikh and endeavour to bleed him
privately. If the Sheikh bled satisfactorily, well and
good. If he did not, and was suspected of possessing
treasure somewhere, he might be seized and sent a
prisoner to the first Kaid ; but enough has been
said to show you that personal freedom is the main
thing. " Put me upon a good horse with a gun in
my hand, and you give me the key of the world and
a passport to Paradise," says your Moor. And, in
Sunset Land, he is in the right of it.

Boaz and myself, we went quietly to bed.

In the morning I woke early and smacked my
lips. I had a zestful appetite for the new day. The
discomfiture of our acquaintances is apt to be even
more pleasing to us than the misfortunes of our
friends. I thought of the probably still snoring
guards, and I chuckled, and rolled a morning
cigarette. I shouted to Boaz to make the tea, and
was comfortably partaking of that beverage when the
first awakening shout of the Raid's guards smote
upon my ears, like the overture to a comic opera.

Abdullah, the one-eyed captain of the guard the
same garrulous rascal who had been spokesman
during my visit to the tent came plunging up the
slope, still drowsy, very much bewildered, and as
wrathful as a bull on a hornet's nest. As a modest
story-teller I would scorn to translate for you the
mildest of the expressions which he expelled from
him at intervals, as an engine getting under way
expels steam. Interspersed among them I caught
various not very respectful references to "Nazarenes "
(the Christianity of a European is taken as a matter

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 109

of course in Morocco, where national and other fine
distinctions count for nothing), and I entertained no
doubt but that he had his suspicions of the true state
of the case. But suspicions without proof are not
much to go upon in any event ; and as between a
travelling Englishman and a soldier of the guard of
a provincial Moorish Kaid they are less than nothing.
I begged the one-eyed man to let me hear details of
his trouble, and proffered him refreshment to sustain
him in the telling withal. The good tea he waved
from him, so to say, and proceeded, his face
empurpling as he went, to pour abuse upon poor
Boaz.

The next act in the opera showed me one-eyed
Abdullah flying bellowing down the green slope
toward his own tent, followed closely by Boaz, who
was thrashing him with a shwarri-rope as he ran, and
cursing him for the fatherless jackal of a mangy Kaid,
lacking the valour required to guard in safety a man
tied hand and foot. I called Boaz to heel as soon as
I could stop laughing, and we made preparations to
strike camp. The guards went without breaking
their fast, and the last glimpse I had of them showed
them ambling hurriedly along the road to Tazigah,
upon which it may be they hoped to overtake the
Sheikh. As I knew the Sheikh must be cantering in
a quite opposite direction, the picture did not disturb
me ; and for the next few days I made myself com-
fortable, perched like a Turk atop of one of the packs
carried by a smooth-stepping mule, a really very
restful method of progress if a shade less dignified
than the ordinary. The pack beneath me was as
broad as a small dining-table, and much softer ; the
mule knew his business better than I did, and required

110 MOROCCO

no guidance. I was no loser by the absence of my
horse ; though of that animal itself the same could
probably not have been said.

I found the Sheikh in the English Consul's fandak
at Al Ksar, with my horse. It seemed his feeling for
me was still informed by a lively sense of gratitude,
and when he heard that I was for Tangier, the Sheikh
announced, in the most matter-of-course way, his
intention of accompanying me. As it happened, I
was further bound for England, home and creditors
at the time ; and so, I thought, the Sheikh and myself
would very soon be parting company in any case.
But imperious Chance, who guides the feet of fools,
and others, was minded otherwise, or these lines had
never been written.

I spent four days in infidel-afflicted Tangier,
during which time the Sheikh hovered about me in a
half-paternal, half-dependent manner which the veriest
boor had found it hard to resent, assisting me in the
task of getting together my various belongings, and
as I discovered very much to my astonishment upon
my last night in Tangier sleeping upon the mat at
my bedroom door. Next morning I waited until the
little steamer which was to convey me to Gibraltar
had gotten up her steam and was ready for departure,
and then sallied forth to the Custom-house, followed
by the Sheikh, Boaz, and a line of laden donkeys.

My baggage had all passed the drowsy eyes of the
gorgeous magnates who sit in the place of fraud and
peculation at Tangier, or I thought so, and a man
came running to inform me that I had not a moment
to spare if I was to catch the boat. Then an elderly
dignitary in robes of orange and violet awoke abruptly
from his doze and ordered a couple of porters to open

MY FRIEND THE SHEIKH 111

a packing-case of books and curios and other odd-
ments, which up till that moment I had overlooked.
I made my salaams to the dignitary and assured him
that the contents of the case were worthless. He
waved me from him, as I had been a puff of cigarette
smoke. The case was opened and my poor treasures
scattered far and wide.

" The Nazarene must wait till another day ; these
matters must be looked into carefully," murmured the
dignitary, with the air of one who felt that for him to
speak at all was an act of ineffable condescension.

I strayed from the path of wisdom and spoke
sharply ; not abusively, you understand, but brusquely,
and with reference to the catching of a boat in
Gibraltar. It was more than enough to damn my
case, it seemed. It may be the dignitary had taken
an over-dose of the shameful (kief-smoke) on the pre-
vious evening. At all events he turned his head aside
languidly and muttered something to a colleague
about the illegitimacy and pig-like nature of Christians
in general, and of myself in particular. Unfortun-
ately the Sheikh, who stood beside me, caught the
words.

" Dog, and thrice-damned son of a dog ! " he
bellowed. And, as he bounded forward, I saw his
eighteen - inch curved dagger flash out from its
scabbard. A long, heavy table separated the officials
from ourselves, the herd. I sprang at the Sheikh's
fluttering garments to hold him back. A dozen
porters leaped in his way as he growled out another
withering curse upon the progeny and the ancestry
of the portly administrator behind the table.

" Hold that pig's son ! " spluttered the official. A
colleague leaned over and whispered to him. "The

112 MOROCCO

Kaid of Ain Sfroo will pay a hundred dollars for that
dog's body. Hold him ! " he yelled.

There was not much time for thought. I could
not afford to lose my boat. It was certain death for
the Sheikh to be left behind ; that I well knew, for
who may oppose a Customs Administrator in the port
of Tangier ? None of them would dare to lay hand
upon me.

" Come ! " I whispered, behind the Sheikh. " Run
with me for your life ! " Trust in me and, I think,
obedience to me had become an instinct with this
man. He turned on the instant, and together we
raced down the pier to where a small boat lay piled
high with my baggage. We were followed hotly by at
least fifty Moors. Down the steps we cluttered, after
upsetting the elderly official who wished to collect toll
from us at the pier-head. We had no time for paying
toll.

" Out oars and pull for your life ! " I shouted to the
boatmen. " Five dollars for you if you catch the
steamer ! "

I could hear the cable creaking in the rusty hawse-
pipe of the little steamer. The skipper was an old
friend of mine.

" Get under way, Cap'en!" said I, the moment
we touched the steamer's deck. " The boat's moored
alongside. They'll be able to pick up my baggage all
right/'

And he did it like a Briton ; and the small flotilla
that had put out after us was a good mile astern when
my last bag was thrown aboard. I gave those boat-
men seven dollars ; and they could and would plead
ignorance of the whole business when they returned
to the shore and the Custom-house.

BELOW THE SALT

T) ROGRESSING downward from those castle-

X dwelling feudal lords of Morocco, the governors

of provinces, one finds every city with its Basha (from

the Turkish bash dghd, or chief administrator), who is

assisted by a lieutenant (khaleefa), who, again, looks to

ijfour m'kaddams, or foremen, one of whom is re-
sponsible for the supervision of each quarter of the
own. The Basha holds open court each day, from
ix or seven till nine or ten o'clock in the morning,

and from three to six afternoon, with a Sabbath
lalf-holiday on Fridays. His court may be held in
he city kasbah, or under an awning before his door,
or, as I have seen it in sundry lesser towns, in a miry
stableyard. In either case, the Basha sits or reclines
upon cushions, a taleb or scribe near by, and the
)ropitiating gifts of litigants, from a loaf of sugar or
packet of candles to a bag of dollars, ranged
suggestively behind him. A few of his soldiers
generally the most unashamed rascals in the town)
are always within hail, for, in the midst of a heated
argument, or when presents come in but poorly,
the Basha is apt to order a general thwacking to be
administered on the spot, or to bundle everyone
concerned in the case before him off to prison, there
to cool their heels and minds, and reflect upon the
evils of litigiousness.

No record is ever kept of punishments adminis-
H 113

114 MOROCCO

tered, and the judge rarely mentions any term in
ordering a man to prison. His power is absolute and
unquestioned, in all penalties save that of death, for
which the Sultan's order has to be obtained. The
Basha deals with all important cases in which
bribing upon anything like a large scale will be in-
volved ; whilst petty cases, street troubles and the
like, in which defendants and plaintiffs are not ex-
pected to make presents of many shillings in value,
come before the Khaleefa's court. This is an even less
ceremonious temple of injustice than the Basha's
court, but its hours and methods are very similar.
From careful observation in the courts of various
Khaleefas, I have come to believe that the scales are
held evenly enough, to this extent, that accused and
accuser, plaintiff and defendant, occupy much the
same positions, and run much the same risks in an
average case tried before Basha or Khaleefa. The
presents from both sides being equal in value, the
plaintiff is at least as likely to go to gaol as is hisj
opponent, and an even more probable contingency is
that the pair of them will be bundled off together.
Now, the suggestion thus conveyed, the moral urged is
excellent : don't go to law ; and it is needed, for all
Orientals are given over much to litigation.

Seriously considered, however, one is bound to'
admit that the Moorish courts are veritable sinks of
chicanery, corruption and venal paltering with the
country's curse of palm oil. When a Moor really
desires justice in a vital matter, vengeance upon a^
murderer, or an adulterer, he sharpens his dagger,;
primes his flint-lock, invokes God's blessing upon his
errand, and sets out to combine the offices of judge
and executioner in his own person by slaying the

BELOW THE SALT 115

offender. His right to do this is recognised ; indeed,
such a course is expected of him, though the accept-
ance of blood-money is allowed at times to wipe out a
blood feud.

In every town there is one other court of a more
formal sort, wherein a more life-like simulacrum of
iustice obtains, and wakels or attorneys ply their
vexatious craft. This is the Kadi's court, and the
Kadi is by way of being a law lord and registrar-
general rather than a criminal judge ; he is a more or
less ecclesiastical civilian, and not a kaid, or militant
power. Here all documents are drawn up by dul, or
notaries ; there is a Kadi's fee attaching to every seal
and signature, and the traffic in " presents " is com-
paratively inconsiderable, and not open. A Kadi may
not send a man to prison for more than three days
without providing a written statement of his offence
and sentence. He may not order fetters, flogging or
torture, and his decisions must always be written.
This is the theory. As a fact, any man of standing
may have an unprotected Moor imprisoned for almost
any length of time, or beaten, within safe limits, by
means of communicating his desire, with material
compliments, to the Basha.

" I sent that rascal up to the kasbah to be flogged
this morning. He had been tampering with . . .
again."

That is a remark which the present writer has
heard more than once upon the lips of European
residents in Moorish ports. There is a European
consul in Morocco to-day who had his Moorish
j servant well beaten, and kept (on the raw edge of
starvation) in prison for exactly one year, as punish-
ment for having plucked and eaten a ripe pear grow-

116

MOROCCO

ing in an uncultivated garden that belonged to the
consul. In this case the whole and sole ceremony of
evidence, trial, sentence and the rest was crowded into
one three-line note from Christian Consul to Muslim
Basha : <c Oblige me by " doing this thing ; and it
was done.

In my diary of an early visit to Tangier I find
quite a good deal of space devoted to the matter of
Bashas' courts and so forth. Perhaps I took Oriental
venality a little too seriously at that time. But the
entry is descriptive, and it shall be given here for that
reason.

THE PALM OIL CURSE

I FIND that the presence of a Nazarene, particu-
larly one of my kidney (known here as a
"scribe and a maker of devil business in books"), is
apt to hamper the progress of injustice in the
Khaleefa's court. I found his worship inclined to
look in my direction and then to temper glaring
roguery and tyranny with slow, benevolent smiles of
Oriental suavity. At first I liked to think that in this
place my presence served to temper injustice to the
shorn, gaunt wretches who figured at the court. A
little inquiry and observation robbed me of this
soothing unction. The event, I found, was quite
unaltered. All the change I brought was a very
slight glozing, a little courteous veiling of the surface
corruption. And this was by no means what I
wanted.

So I took Abd es Selam into my confidence, not
for the first time. I sauntered in the locality like an
anxious litigant ; Selam looked into court and
listened, with sleepy, careless eyes. I received my
reports toward tiffin-time, when the Khaleefa retired
for his siesta. There was a marked sameness, a quite
tiresome monotony, about this morning's cases. This
I noticed. Seven cases were of the order in which
one man lays a complaint against another. Four
out of the seven ended in the complainant being
dragged off to prison, whilst the defendant stalked

117

118 MOROCCO

abroad, a free and most complaisant man. In those
four cases complainant had prefaced his plaint by a
small present of groceries. Defendant, on the other
hand, in each of these four cases, had laid coin of the
realm, in a paper, at the Khaleefa's feet. Food is
cheap here. His worship prefers coin.

Lack of space hampers me, but one specimen case
I must tell of here.

Mohamet, a Tangier Moor, appeared in the:
Khaleefate and complained that Cassim, Riffi, had
man-handled him in the open market. Mohamet
desired that Cassim might be beaten in the kasbah
for this. At the same time he placed four packets of
candles and three dollars, a very respectable gift, on a
mat beside the Khaleefa. His worship grunted
affably and sent two soldiers for Cassim. Mohamet
waited to watch events. A man of experience is
Mohamet. Cassim presently appeared, a splendid
specimen of a mountain man, with wild eyes which he
kept downcast. And that was the loss of him ; for,
even in Mohamet's presence, his eyes might have
telegraphed the Khaleefa promise of a bribe. This
is quite a customary method. However, Cassim
obstinately eyed the floor. Seeing, therefore, that he
had an obdurate rascal to deal with, the Khaleefa
sighed (he naturally prefers a bribe from both
sides) and, without a question of any sort, said to
Cassim,

" So, dog, you will fall upon good Muslim in here in
Tangier and beat them, eh ? " Then, to the soldiers :
<c Take him to the prison and scourge him well two
hundred strokes. Leave him there.''

This quotation is unadorned and as literal as I
can make it. Cassim was led away, too proud to

THE PALM OIL CURSE 119

speak. I rode after him toward the prison. My man
remained in the court.

Just as we reached the prison's outer courtyard
a soldier overtook us, breathless, and followed closely
by my Moor. We were ordered back to court. On
the way Abd es Selam fell back and explained to
me. CassinYs uncle, it appeared, was a man of some
substanpe, and the owner of many mules. He had
arrived at court five minutes after Cassim's start from
thence for the prison. He had spoken with the
Khaleefa, and Selam had watched him count out
twelve dollars into his worship's hand. On our
return I entered the court at Cassim's heels. This
is what passed.

The Khaleefa, good-humouredly : " How is this,
Riffi (Cassim) ? How comes it you did not tell me
you had not truly beaten Mohamet?" Cassim, the
Riffi, sulkily : " Lord, why should I talk of such
cattle ? The beating that I gave him was "

The Khaleefa: c< Eh, eh;*shwei, shwei ! This
my court is not the market-place. I cannot have so
much noise. Go away, all of you ! "

" But, Lord " began complainant Mohamet.

" Outside! Away with you, I say! Go and talk
to the Kadi." (That is, go and hold your peace;
for the Kadi has no jurisdiction in such cases.) So
the Riffi swaggered out into the sunshine, and
Mohamet, crestfallen, followed him, doubtless medi-
tating a fresh scheme of revenge, in which he would
be more careful in the matter of out-bribing his
enemy. As a fact, by the way, Cassim is a truculent
fellow, and he had rather severely mauled the puling
Tangier man, more out of bravado than from any
other motive. An inconsiderable affair, truly, but

120 MOROCCO

it must have been fifteen dollars in the worthy
Khaleefa's pocket, and it may serve as a fair
illustration of Moorish methods in matters big
and little where the administration of justice is
concerned.

BELOW THE SURFACE

VILLAGES and small towns in Morocco are
administered by sheikhs, or elders, and all
property of mosques, shrines, receptacles for pious offer-
ings and the like, are under the control of special
officials. Such an officer is called a madhir, and he is
generally an interested party in at least one law-suit,
for the Church of Islam, like the Church in Western
communities, has always been inclined to extend its
boundaries, and to " creep in " upon the lands and
belongings of individuals, to use a phrase which will
crop up in dealing with Morocco, while yet the
country remains unabsorbed by its neighbour,
Algeria. Village administration illustrates clearly
how, down to the smallest detail, the feudal and the
tribal spirits rule in Morocco. The inhabitants of
every village are responsible to their sheikh, he to
the nearest basha, who answers to the governor of the
province, who again is responsible to the goverment
for robbery or other loss by whosoever caused in the
neighbourhood of that village. Indeed, the trades-
men in a city street are held liable in the event of
robbery or damage in their neighbourhood, and if a
foreigner is maltreated or loses property in an affray
(often brought about by his own ignorance or insol-
ence), and his consul claims damages from the
Moorish Goverment, it is the residents of the street
in which the trouble occurred, be they the poorest

121

122 MOROCCO

and least guilty in the city, who have to suffer and

Pay-
Touching two widely different classes of foreigners

this system produces two bad results. Putting
foreigners out of the question, it is well enough
adapted to the usages of the community by which it
was evolved. The first kind of outlander allows
natural kindliness to over-rule his citizen sense, and,
well knowing that complaint and the claiming of
damages will bring suffering upon innocent persons,
allows himself, as ill-luck directs, to be robbed or
assaulted without taking any steps to obtain redress.
The second sort, a disgrace to Western civilisation,
allows mercenary greed to swamp common honesty
and common humanity, and, when robbed of a
sovereign, claims a ^100, and even, failing a
convenient pretext, invents, or arranges, a sham
assault or robbery to serve as ground upon which to
lay a claim against the Moorish Government, and
thus afflict a section of the Moorish community by
oppression and extortion.

The writer could name at this moment a Christian
(in Morocco all foreigners are " Christians"
Nazarenes or "Jews" Htidis) the son of a
European merchant of some standing, who, within the
past three years, robbed the Moorish Government and
people in this way of some hundreds of pounds say
^400 well knowing that the villagers that were
harassed, or, in Moorish phrase, u squeezed," to
provide this basis of three months' dissipated living
for him were gaunt, country Moors with whom life
was an unceasing fight for bare sustenance. This
Christian was of the type whose members earn the
reputation of being good fellows, genial, happy-go-

BELOW THE SURFACE 123

lucky, hearty dogs, liberal with their money in bar-
rooms, and jovially lewd in conversation. He care-
fully planned his make-believe robbery with the rascally
Tangerine Moor who accompanied him as servant
upon a short journey inland. Two days before the
event he borrowed ten dollars and a shirt from a
friend of mine whose hospitality he abused in an
inland town. His every action, during weeks
previous to this, had bespoken unmistakable impecuni-
osity. His entire caravan had scarcely brought him
a hundred depreciated Spanish dollars if put up to
auction in Tangier Sok. Yet his claim for goods and
money stolen from his tent was fixed at 3000 of those
dollars, and, after the usual delays, he actually
received $1800 or about ^300 sterling.

This man, with his rascally servant and their
company, camped outside a village, which only respect
for the law that makes the telling of some truths
libellous prevents my naming here. The sheikh of
that village, acting upon the Arab code of hospitality,
sent out the half of a sheep, tea, candles and
other small matters for the stranger, with whom, to
his credit be it said, he had absolutely nothing in
common. The sham robbery, with all the requisite
accessories of revolver-shooting and the like, was
brought off toward morning. A few months later
that hospitable sheikh was visited by Government
soldiery, who stripped the village of money, food,
stock and all else upon which money might be raised,
obtaining the equivalent of perhaps $4000, of
which close upon 2000 reached the consul whose
misfortune it was to have for fellow-countryman the
Christian hero of this sordid escapade.

One wishes it might fairly be added that such

124 MOROCCO

despicable abuses were rare in Morocco. Unfoftu- |
nately the facts forbid such a commentary. On the
contrary, the conclusion one is regretfully forced to by
study of the relations of Europeans and Moors in |
Morocco is that upon the whole these relations have
bred deterioration on both sides, and that most
notably upon the professedly superior side.

No European resident who has learned to know
Morocco cares to have for servant, or as member of
his household in any capacity whatever, a Moor who
has been brought into sufficiently intimate relations
with foreigners to have acquired knowledge of a foreign
tongue ; no Moor in Morocco is rated so low by his
own countrymen, and by foreigners, as the Tangier
Moor ; and rightly so. (Tangier is, of course, the
most Christianised town in the country ; the only
town, in fact, in which foreign influences have obtained
any appreciable hold.) There can be no blinking the
tendencies evidenced by these facts. A dozen others,
equally suggestive, could be cited by any observant
student of the country and its institutions. European
standards of right will never be adopted by the Moors,
nor yet by any other of those Eastern peoples whose
codes were a fixed part of their civilisation while yet
half-naked savages worshipped stocks and stones in
the future home of the Church of England.

The virtues of the Moors, or, to fit Christendom's
standpoint, let us say the best gifts of the Moors, will
never be acquired by the Europeans who come into
touch with them, for the reason that the product of
Western civilisation has little use for these gifts, and
would find them as ill-fitting as suits of mail or any
other part of the panoply of bygone days. On the
other hand, men's vices are infectious and make

BELOW THE SURFACE 125

mock of racial bars. The Moors, a decadent nation,
find it easy to slip into habits unwholesome even for
the Europeans who introduce them, deadly for the
unaccustomed Moors who are infected by them. The
Westerners, a pushful and a masterful people, find it
difficult to hold their own in a country populated
by men naturally cunning and unrestrained by the
scruples which go to make up the Western code of
honour difficult, if not impossible, without resorting
to the weapons of their opponents. Now, the use of
those weapons, of cunning, intrigue and fatalistic
complaisance, whilst natural and fitting for a Moor
among Moors, means a descent into something like
criminality for a man of Western faith and up-bring-
ing. And hence the deterioration upon the Christian
side which comes of Moorish-European commercial
intercourse.

In such matters one speaks of broad results,
putting aside isolated cases and individual peculiar-
ities which make for exceptions to all general rules.
It is nothing to do with race or religion ; it is only
the curse of the money-hunt that is at the root of
this deterioration you notice," said a European
diplomatist to the present writer. But I think the
diplomatist was at fault. The curse of the money-
hunt is over all the civilised earth ; it is but one of the
touchstones, the dangerous points of contact in the
corrosive friction referred to here. The fact is that
among civilised communities the great majority are
centred upon the money-hunt. It is so, also, in the
little European community in Morocco. The money-
hunt and the restless energy which spurs men to it
are integral parts of Western civilisation. Broadly
speaking, the great mass of Europeans are engaged

126 MOROCCO

always in the endeavour to make profit one from out
another. The description holds good as applied to
the most of Europeans in Morocco, where a white
man needs must be either a consul or a trader. And
that kind of commerce which in Europe is called
legitimate, the most honourable sorts of trafficking,
would certainly not prove profitable in Morocco.
Yet the men of Europe are not wont to engage
persistently in unprofitable commerce. The true
deduction is obvious.

But the deteriorating influence goes farther, and
even the few who are not, primarily at all events,
interested in the money-hunt can seldom altogether
escape it, though, in the case of this small section,
honour may go unscathed ; the man moral may hold
his own ; the man emotional, in nine cases out of ten,
must suffer. Morocco is nominally an independent
realm. European notions of right and wrong,
humanity and inhumanity, cannot therefore be upheld
or enforced in Morocco. A European resident of
the country is brought daily into contact with cases
which, judged by his standards, display gross in-
humanity and criminal immorality. His attitude
toward these things must needs be one of protest and
opposition, or of silent contempt. Now, silent
contempt is apt to lapse into indifference, and in-
difference soon becomes something like tacit approval ;
and that spells, at least, emotional deterioration for
the individual. Active protest, on the other hand,
while Morocco remains the Moorish Empire, means
broken health, broken fortune, shattered nerves and
failure, probable exile from the country, certain
failure.

These are not pleasing statements to make, and

BELOW THE SURFACE 127

as only actual experience can convince the average
man of their truth, the making of them is an un-
grateful task, and a painful one to boot, for a lover
of Morocco. But they are true, and, making them
here, the lover of Morocco who writes these lines is
reminded of many a tale that would demonstrate
the truth of them clearly enough. But such tales
are all of wrong-doing, of cruelty and of deterioration.
They are sordid stories, both those that tell of white
men's treachery to the ideals of their race and those
that show how contact with our belauded civilisation
has corroded the souls and enfeebled the bodies of
fine, lusty young semi-savages among the mountain
men of Sunset Land. I had liefer tell you of
exceptions, I think.

You remember the young Sheikh of Tazigah,
Abd el Majeed, who unsuccessfully endeavoured to
skewer a portly Customs administrator in the
supposed interests of a fellow-countryman of my
own ? That same friend of mine has written down
for me some few of the Sheikh's experiences in
England after they left Tangier together. I must
give you these.

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND

WHEN Sheikh Abd el Majeed landed with me
from the P. & O. boat at the docks in
London I felt constrained to point out to him that
the London Customs authorities were neither tyrants
nor brigands, that they would not insult or prey upon
us, and that a new arrival must by no means draw
dagger upon them. I remembered our adventure
beside the old pier at Tangier, you see, and knew of
the deadly-curved weapon, with its sheath and hilt of
fretted silver, that hung by a rope of green silk under
Majeed's left arm-pit. His snowy djellab covered
all, however, and gave him the most innocent sort of
exterior.

An apter hand at picking up a language than my
friend, Sheikh Abd el Majeed, I have yet to meet.
Already, though it was less than a week since our
victorious, if not very dignified, departure from
Morocco, he had quite a good deal of English, and
was able to make himself understood in the most
masterful speech known to Christendom not with
fluency, of course, but sufficiently. Vegetables were
always " keftables " with Majeed, and breakfast was
"brefkiss" ; bullocks or cows were " catties," and the
flesh of his body was Majeed's "meat." But what
would you ? He could ask for what he wanted in
this life, and his dignity was such that if he had had
to chase his fez along the gutter on a windy day and

128

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 129

apologise for knocking over an apple-woman in the

chase, I am convinced that he could and would have

accomplished it without turning a hair or appearing in

he least ridiculous. It is a singular thing, that;

)ut you may put a Moorish gentleman in any sort of

)osition or predicament that you shall choose, and

lowever absurd it be he will never look less than a

Moorish gentleman, which is to say a monument of

eposeful dignity.

My people were somewhat astonished when I

arrived at the dear old place at Crookham Highlow

vith the Sheikh. He created something of a

ensation at Crookham station, with his bare, corn-

oloured legs, and his vivid, lemon-coloured slippers

,nd flowing robes. The rumour went abroad that I

lad brought an Indian prince home with me (there

re a number of retired Anglo-Indian officials in the

Drookham district, and the village prides itself upon

ts Eastern lore), and all the callers at the Hall were

nxious to see Abd el Majeed. I was glad to be

iome again for a while despite the pile of bills

bat lay on the table in my den ; and the first evening

tands out clearly in my recollection a cheery

icture to keep in one's mind to look at on cloudy

ays, or when the thread of one's affairs grows more

ban ordinarily twisted.

We sat in the big hall, where a low fire smouldered

n the hearth though summer was at hand. My

ather smoked his cigar in his favourite great oak

hair, with the ecclesiastical-looking wings, which I

Iways said made it remind one of a sacristy. My

nother was on the couch beside the chimney ; my

ttle sister Betty (there were never but the two of

s in our family) was curled upon a cushion at my

i

130 MOROCCO

feet, giving me the news of the year and the gossip of
the parish ; and at the foot of the stairs, where a broad
ray of light from the staircase window told us the
moon was almost as its full, Sheikh Abd el Majeed
squatted in his snowy robes, fingering a gimbri he
had brought with him, and supplying for me the
Oriental and picturesque element required to make
our little picture perfect. A gimbri, you must know,
is a queer, melodious little instrument much in
favour among all sorts and conditions of Moors, and
not unlike a mandolin.

Long after our father and mother had left us for
the night, I lounged there, and smoked and listened!
to Betty's chat, and watched the moonlight stroking
Majeed's scarlet fez, with its long, dark blue tassel.)
It seemed we were all going to Harborough in a
days, to spend a week with old friends, the Stuart- j
Grahams, who were giving a grand ball in honour ol
the coming of age of their only daughter, Elsie, wh<
had been a sweetheart of mine when we were both!
children and the Stuart-Grahams had lived in Crook-
ham Highlow. Betty was madly excited at the prospect,]
and I gathered that the reason of her rejoicing was
that a certain Lieutenant Foster of the nth Hussars,!
a man I had never met, would be one of our fellow-j
guests at Frampton House, the Stuart-Grahams'
place. This Lieutenant Foster had met Betty atl
Cowes, it seemed, and had subsequently spent a week
or two with his mother, I understood, at our place,
when the house had been full of visitors. Of course,,
little Betty did not tell me the thing in so many| 2
words, but I could plainly see she was as much inj
love with the Lieutenant as a girl dare be before al
man proposes to her ; and I mentally prayed thatm

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 131

Foster might prove a decent sort, whilst promising
myself to make his acquaintance and keep a very
sharp eye on the young man.

" I'm a selfish beggar to remain away from home
so much," I told myself.

A couple of days later I had a note from Elsie
Stuart-Graham, saying she was delighted to hear of
my return in time for her ball, and that she had heard
rom Betty of my " quite delightful Moor ! " I was to

very sure and bring Abd el Majeed with me, a
room would be set apart for him (as a fact, he always
nsisted on sleeping at my door) and he would
certainly prove the chief attraction of the week ; and,
inally, the writer was, in inverted commas, affection-
ately my " Elskins " the name I had bestowed upon
ler when we were children together, and now had
not heard for at least thirteen or fourteen years. She
lad been but seven years old when I was twelve.

Accordingly, then, we started in the old landau
next morning for the Stuart-Grahams, the distance
was no more than twenty-eight miles, so we were to
drive, sending the horses back on the following day.
My father held that the railway was a useful
nstitution for the transport of one's luggage, but that
t was no <c conveyance for a gentleman, sir, while
there is a decent pair of horses in the land " Sheikh
Abd el Majeed, attired resplendently, and gravely
ingering his rosary, sat beside old Sparrow, our
coachman, on the box, and viewed the country round
ndulgently, as one who, being himself of the Faith,
and sure of a superfine pavilion in Paradise, could
afford to overlook small discrepancies in the lives and
properties of unbelieving and less-favoured mortals
lere upon earth. I afterwards ascertained that he

132 MOROCCO

treated Sparrow to a lengthy dissertation upon the
art of driving and the general management of horses ;
Majeed, who, though a perfect horseman, had never |
seen a vehicle or harness in his life until a week ,
before this day. And the odd thing about it was that I
old Sparrow, the most autocratic of coachmen, took it [
all in good part, and expressed great good feeling and ?
admiration where the Sheikh was concerned. This j
may have been partly owing to the fact that he I
understood no more than about twenty per cent, of j
what the Moor said. But it was doubtless also (
owing, in part, to the extreme charm and dignity of I
the Sheikh's manner and bearing.

The ball took place on the night following that of I
our arrival at Frampton House, and, for a reason that [
will afterwards appear, my dear little sister Betty
went to bed with tears in her blue eyes when all was
over, and I went cursing Lieutenant Foster, and
longing unreasonably for an excuse to pull his nose
without involving my sister. And that was not at
all as it should have been in a house full of happy
guests, bent seriously upon no other thing than
festivity.

Elsie, the daughter of the house, in whose honour
all this jollification was, created quite a sensation, and
was acknowledged a beauty. Her demeanour was
quite charming, but I had no eyes for that, being
occupied with my little sister's distress about the
confounded Lieutenant. To be sure, everybody was
smitten by the charms of Elsie ; but to my unreason-
able brother's mind it did appear that Lieutenant
Foster had no earthly right to share the common fate,
or to number himself so obsequiously among the
beauty's court. He must have given Betty good

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 133

grounds for entertaining toward him the feelings she
had, I thought ; and so Confound the man ! he
deserved horse-whipping for bringing tears to her
eyes by joining the throng that paid court to Elsie.
Feeling all this as I did, I hardly exchanged a dozen
words with "Elskins" myself, though she did give
me several opportunities.

When Elsie's health was drunk, all standing at
supper, I am bound to say I think I never saw a
woman, young or old, look more radiantly beautiful.
She was exquisitely dressed in some mysterious
white material, and upon her head she wore the
famous Stuart-Graham tiara, given her that day by
her father, the General. Now, you have probably
heard of the Stuart-Graham tiara everyone has ; but
unless you have held it in your hand you can hardly
hope to realise what a superb thing it is, with the
great Rajput diamond blazing out of its centre like
the eye of some wondrous genie of Eastern story.
How the General became possessed of this historic
gem I cannot say ; but I know that experts call it the
seventh jewel in the world, and I should call it the
most wonderful thing of its sort I ever saw. General
Stuart-Graham was for years Commander-in-Chief at
the court of the Rajput Maharajah of Jeysulmeer, but
it was certainly wonderful that he should have become
the owner of the famous Jeysulmeer diamond. How-
ever, it was his, and it served to make the otherwise
beautiful Stuart-Graham tiara a crown of exceeding
glory ; just as the tiara served to make an otherwise
beautiful maiden a queen of exceeding loveliness on
the night of Elsie's ball. The Stuart-Graham
champagne was well enough, as '84 Pommery must
needs be, but it seemed that Elsie and her tiara

134 MOROCCO

turned the heads of the men, quite apart from her
father's excellent wine.

"And to think that if I only had diamonds like
Elsie's, Lieutenant to think Oh, how I wish her
diamonds were mine ! " half sobbed poor little Betty
when I walked with her as far as her door after the
ball. Behind us stalked the Sheikh. In some
mysterious way of his own he seemed to have
grasped the inwardness of the situation.

" Lalla," said he, as he bade my sister good-night
(he always addressed Betty and my mother in this
way, as "Lady") "we are in Allah's hands, and
truly only He knows." He lapsed into Arabic,
looking to me for interpretation. "If it be written
that you should have such jewels, you will certainly
have them. In any case, all will be well for you.
Therefore, grieve not. We are in God's hands/'

And so we parted for the night, the Sheikh
following me as usual to my room. There I left him,
however, having an itching desire to see more of the
man who had made my sister so unhappy. I knew
the lieutenant had made for the big smoking-room, so
I betook myself thither for a final smoke, bent upon
making some study of the man. If he seemed to me
the mere trifler that I suspected he was, I intended
that our acquaintance should not be a very agreeable
one for him.

Several guests left the house on the following
morning, and workmen were about the hall and
staircase, removing decorations of a temporary
character which had been arranged for the ball. We,
however, were to remain for another two or three days,
and so was Lieutenant Foster. I noticed that he
strolled out into the garden with Elsie soon after

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 135

breakfast, and Betty's eyes met mine, sadly, as the
two disappeared from view.

" Hang the man ! " I muttered ; and, lighting a
cigar, started with Betty, followed as usual by Sheikh
Abd el Majeed, to see the kennels. The General
kept a pack of otter hounds, and his kennels were
famous.

A few minutes before luncheon, when most of the
household were gathered together in the hall, we all
became aware (I was never sure exactly how the
news arrived) that something serious had happened.
For some little time there was muttering, and running
to and fro, and a general buzz of uneasiness, without
anyone appearing to know precisely what the trouble
was. Then the General came marching out of the
library, and ran upstairs, taking three steps in one,
with never a word to the rest of us. Half a minute
later Mrs Stuart-Graham announced that the famous
tiara, containing the Jeysulmeer diamond, the seventh
jewel in the world, had been stolen from Elsie's bed-
room. She used the word "lost," but one does not
drop famous tiaras under corners of one's carpets.

If one of the guests in the house had been killed
it could hardly have created more of a sensation, or
spread more gloom over the house. We all knew
that this was no ordinary misfortune, and that the loss
of this tiara was the loss of a fortune from the
monetary standpoint, and of a historic treasure apart
from its mere selling value. It was one of those
events which are a little too serious to talk about, and
which yet cannot be overlooked in talk with those
concerned. Before the dinner-hour arrived we were
all feeling this so strongly that the guests decided in
a body to curtail their visits and leave on the following

136 MOROCCO

day. Some, in fact, left that evening, Lieutenant
Foster among them ; and my father telegraphed for
his horses during the afternoon, and decided that we
should set out homewards next morning.

In the meantime the General received the following
telegraphic message from Scotland Yard in reply to
one he had sent off as soon as the loss was dis-
covered :

" Two men on way to your house. Please detain
everybody in house."

"Well, that is all right," said the General, a man
very loyal to his class and to his friends. " No one
has left except er except our own that is to say,
only our friends have left the house to-day. There
are a good many work- folk about, and those can wait
till these police fellows come." An order was given
that no servant was to leave the premises, and we
settled down for an evening of chill discomfort.

At six o'clock the detectives arrived, and it was
explained to us that the boxes of all the servants were
to be examined, and that therefore, as a matter of form,
the General would be obliged if we would allow the
detectives to go through our baggage.

" It's rather ridiculous and a nuisance, of course,"
the old gentleman explained, nervously. " But these
fellows have their own methods, and they won't do
anything if one interferes ; so I hope you will excuse
it. The Jeysulmeer simply must be found."

Altogether, it was a very dismal evening, and
matters were in no way enlivened by the detective's
announcement, towards ten o'clock that evening, that
they had as yet found no clue to go upon. The little

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 137

telegraph station at Harborough was kept busy that
evening, and detailed descriptions of the tiara, and of
the famous diamond, were placed with the police
throughout the kingdom, and with all the diamond-
dealers of note on both sides of the Channel. The
poor old General grew more nervous and irritable as
time wore on, and whilst exceedingly sorry for him, I
am bound to say that I was very thankful to see
Sparrow with the bays and the old landau drawn up
before the terrace next morning. Elsie I had hardly
spoken to since the trouble began. I knew that she
was dreadfully upset about it, and blamed herself
greatly for having been the unwitting cause of what,
from her father's point of view, was nothing less than
a calamity. It seemed she had left the gorgeous
thing in a drawer of her wardrobe instead of locking
it in the heavy little fire-proof safe which her careful
father had had placed in her dressing-room to receive it.
I felt sorry for Elsie when she bade me an almost
tearful good-bye. And so I think did my sister Betty,
despite her soreness in the matter of her Lieutenant, a
soreness which I shared, so to say, vicariously.

"Good-bye, Elskins!" said I, with what I meant
to be as cheering a smile as possible. " Don't think
too much about the Jeysulmeer. I am sure it will be
found soon. It's too gorgeous for a thief to dispose
of. And anyhow, you will always be charming
without it."

And she was charming, too, I thought, as she
looked up at me through lashes that were suspiciously
moist.

Betty had her own private trouble, and my father
and mother, and myself, too, for that matter, were
pretty fully, and not cheerfully, occupied with thoughts

138 MOROCCO

of the Stuart-Grahams' loss. Sparrow had, of course,
heard the news, and felt called upon to wear a most
funereal expression in consequence. Only Sheikh
Abd el Majeed was unaffected by the trouble in the
air, and he alone of our party smiled serenely upon
the circumambient country from his seat upon the
box. Tiaras were nothing to the Sheikh. He had
that within which passeth show, and was convinced
that the houris who would attend him in Paradise
would bear about them jewels, the smallest fragment
of which would infinitely transcend anything that
mere unbelievers could even dream of seeing, not to
mention possessing, here on earth.

We reached the Hall in time for afternoon tea, and
I saw nothing of the Sheikh until I went to my room
to dress for dinner. There I found him, squatting
upon a West African leopard skin, and idly strum-
ming at his gimbri, his face a picture of serene felicity.
I had just finished dressing, and was in the act of
lighting a before-dinner cigarette to take with the
glass of sherry which el Majeed had brought me,
when I heard a little scream from the adjoining apart-
ment, which was my sister Betty's dressing-room. A
moment later, and, with the merest pretence of a
knock at my door, Betty was beside me, gasping from
astonishment and holding before her, as it might be a
salver, the famous Stuart-Graham tiara.

" On the table in my dressing-room, under a
handkerchief! I had dressed in my bedroom, as it
happened. Oh oh ! Whatever does it mean ? "

" Good Lord ! " I cried. Heaven alone knew what
it meant, I thought. But there indubitably was the
Jeysulmeer. No seeing person could mistake that
dazzling jewel for anything else but its own marvellous

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 139

self. It fairly flamed at me in Betty's hand. I
declare in the circumstances it was positively uncanny ;
and I regarded it with a shiver of something like fear.
All sorts of horrid thoughts swept through my mind,
conveying no sensible meaning to me, but only vague
mistrust and horror. For me, I am altogether with
Prince Florizel now in thinking that, outside the
treasure-houses of monarchs, such fabulously valuable
jewels are an unmitigated curse to mankind. I
cannot tell you of the horrible thoughts the thing
gave me. Such priceless stones would cause gloom,
suspicion and dissension among the truest friends
upon earth.

" My dear Betty," I stammered lamely, "how
how the devil did the thing come into your posses-
sion ? "

I have always been thankful that the Sheikh was
there and heard and saw the whole thing. I think
that wretched diamond must have evilly possessed me
in some way. I don't know exactly what I thought,
but I had poor little Betty in my arms sobbing, a
moment later, while from over her shoulder I saw and
heard the Sheikh explaining in his own bland manner.

" It is nothing," said he, with the deprecatory air
of one who disclaims thanks for some small favour.
" Lalla Bettee, she like this thing she say. I get it
for her. It is nothing nothing at all. Those people
he get no sense. He look in the boxes Phaa! I
carry it under my kaftan. It was quite easy. Now
Lalla Bettee has it for her own. I am glad. But
it was nothing nothing at all."

Heard ever man the like of it! And I knew that
at that moment detectives were hunting for this
blazing toy in every capital in Europe. Hundreds of

140 MOROCCO

pounds had probably been spent already in the search.
Every diamond-dealer in the hemisphere was thinking
of the thing. The Stuart-Grahams were at their wits'
end about it. Poor little Elsie was probably crying
her eyes out, and the General was doubtless fretting
his nerves to ribbons over this world-famous tiara
which Abd el Majeed had plucked like a flower and
brought away among his garments, as he supposed to
gratify a whim of my sister's.

I sat down at last from sheer stress of bewilder-
ment, with Betty on my knee, and the Sheikh still
muttering that it was " nothing nothing at all!"
before us. It was hopeless to try to convey any
adequate explanation of the situation to the Sheikh.
I did try to tell him that my family might be eternally
ruined and disgraced, and myself imprisoned for life,
and various other little matters of that sort as the
result of his kindly-meant insanity. He could not
see it at all. The " Lalla Bettee" had wanted the
thing, and he, the Sheikh, with the exercise of a little
ordinary care and skill, had obtained it for her. And
there was an end of it.

Finally, I dried Betty's tears and sent her away to
make my excuses at dinner. Then I sat down to
consider the situation. The more I thought of it the
uglier the whole affair looked. That was the horrible
thing about this wretched Jeysulmeer. Contact with
it robbed one of all confidence or self-respect, it
seemed. I have said that I cannot tell you the
thoughts which the sight of the thing inspired in me.
The idea of going to old General Stuart-Graham,
returning him his priceless tiara and telling him we
had brought it away in error, seemed to me the very
most impossible sort of idea that had ever occurred to

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 141

mortal man. And here it falls to me to make a
confession.

For one wretched minute I harboured some such
thought as this in my mind : They have lost their
tiara now, they will grow used to the loss in time ; cut
into sections, the Jeysulmeer and the other stones
would represent a fortune for any man ; with a
fortune I

I will attempt no apology. The jewel bewitched
me, I really believe ; a baleful, horrible devil of an
ornament !

At least its baleful influence brought decision to me.

"This won't do," I said aloud, "it won't do at all.
This plaguy tiara has just got to be returned the way
it came, and Abd el Majeed must see to it."

Half an hour later I was cantering over Crookham
heath, the Sheikh mounted on a serviceable chestnut
hack beside me, and the infernal tiara in a leather
collar-box strapped in a knapsack on my shoulders.
My idea, which, of course, the Sheikh thought a
singularly crazy one, was that we should reach
Harborough about eleven o'clock, effect a burglarious
entry in some manner at Frampton House, and
manage to return the tiara to the room from which it
had been taken without seeing anyone. The whole
thing was risky and unpleasant, to be sure ; but when
you shall find yourself possessed of stolen property to
the value of many thousands of pounds, you will
realise that it is worth getting rid of at whatever risk.
The risk involved in the retaining of the jewel even
for a single night seemed to me infinitely more des-
perate than any other that I could be brought to face.
So on we rode, with our priceless collar-box, the
Sheikh and myself.

142 MOROCCO

Harborough church clock was striking the half-
hour after eleven as the amateur burglars, Sheikh
Abd el Majeed and myself, led our horses into an old
and disused chalk-pit situate some few hundred yards
from the lodge-gates of Frampton House. Fortun-
ately for us the kennels are placed at the lower end of
the park, and three-quarters of a mile from Frampton
House, whilst I knew that no dogs were kept about
the house itself. We tied our horses in the brush at
the far end of the old chalk-pit, and cautiously made
our way to the park palings at some distance from the
lodge. These were easily scaled, and within a quarter
of an hour we were approaching the rear premises
across cabbage beds in the kitchen garden. Not a
single light was visible in the whole great house. I
was thankful for that.

A glint of moonlight showed me the Sheikh's face
as we entered a sort of court-yard upon which the
laundry, the carpenter's shop, the fuel-houses, and
various other offices opened. He was evidently as
calm, as cool, and as entirely self-possessed as though
we had been bent upon an evening stroll for the better
digestion of our dinner. My own case was far other-
wise, and I will admit frankly that my knees shook
when, with a casual wave of his white-draped arm, the
Sheikh indicated to me the half-open window of a
scullery.

For a house which had contained the seventh
jewel in the world the General's establishment was
certainly but poorly secured against burglars or other
such questionable characters as Sheikh Abd el Majeed
and myself. Stepping through the scullery window
was simple, though I did put my foot into a small
bath full of liquid starch. From this scullery to the

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 143

servants' hall was but a few steps ; and then, with
never a bolt or lock to touch, we reached the main
staircase, which at that moment was lighted
with embarrasing distinctness by the moon shining
through a stained glass window in the gallery
above.

I had explained to Majeed that he must lead me
to the door of Elsie's dressing-room, since that was
the apartment from which he had abstracted the
horrible jewel of Jeysulmeer. I meant to place it
upon a table there, in such a position as would attract
immediate attention, and then, as I left the room, to
^ock the door from outside. Thus, I thought, Elsie
cannot fail to find her treasure when she goes into
tier dressing-room in the morning, by the door
communicating with her bedroom. I had ascertained
from the Sheikh that the two rooms did communicate.
My boots the starchy one and its fellow I had left
in the scullery, where the Sheikh's yellow slippers
kept them company. So I upon my stockinged feet
and the Sheikh bare-footed we crept over the thick
stair-carpet to the dressing-room door.

" You are certain?" I breathed nervously to my
companion in crime as he stopped outside a door
separated by no more than a few feet from another
like it.

The Sheikh nodded his certainty, and I handed
him the tiara (the collar-box I had left with my boots)
that I might devote both hands to the task of noise-
lessly opening the door. It was a good amenable
sort of door, and yielded without creak or murmur to
my infinitely gentle suasion. Then el Majeed handed
me the tiara, from which at that moment the moon-
light extracted a curious bluish radiance, very beauti-

144 MOROCCO

ful, no doubt, but to me, in my highly ambiguous posi-
tion, very distracting.

A dressing-table faced me as I entered the room,
and the moonlight showed me an open space before
the mirror, intended by Providence, it seemed, for the
accommodation of the tiara. I stepped out cautiously
toward it, the tiara held before me as a footman holds
a plate. As I laid the fateful thing upon a sort of
satin mat the sound of a faint sigh upon my right
almost brought me to the floor in nervous confusion,
to such a pitch were my nerves strung by this ad-
venture and the cruelly false position in which it
placed me.

I turned toward the place from which the sigh
came. I had to turn to retrace my steps. And as I
turned I faced, not hanging garments, cupboards,
wardrobes, or anything pertaining to a dressing-
room, but a small white bed, with an eider-down
hanging low upon one side of it, and a white-draped
figure rising from its other side, with wide, staring
eyes fixed upon me in astonishment and horror.

I was in Elsie's bedroom, and Elsie, rising from
her prayers, was facing me across her bed, her great
eyes flitting from the blazing tiara on the dressing-
table to my doubtless criminally guilty face.

I found my tongue somehow.

" For God's sake, Elskins," I whispered hoarsely,
1 'don't cry out! It's all a horrible mistake. You
know me, Elskins. For heaven's sake don't make a
noise ! I I am going down to the kitchen. Please
put something on and come down there, so that so
that I may explain this horrible business. Please
Elskins ! "

You will admit that it was a trying ordeal for a

THE SHEIKH AND THE DIAMOND 145

young girl to face almost as trying as it was for me,
though not quite, I fancy. She behaved like the
pearl she is.

" Go, then/' said she, " I will come in a minute."

And she did ; and down there among the glisten-
ing copper, and china, and what not, I told her the
whole miserable tale, and knew that she knew that it
was true. I was absolutely frank about it ; I had a
need to be. So I told her all about poor Betty's
trouble, and tried to make her understand how it was
that the Sheikh, in the Oriental innocence of his
heart, came to be guilty of this colossal peculation.

" I am so sorry," murmured Elsie I had never
realised before what glorious hair she had. " And it
was all such a mistake ; such a funny mistake, too.
Why, I never gave a thought to Lieutenant Foster.
Indeed, I " And then, as I live, the dear girl
blushed all over her sweet face, and I I realised
that I loved her better than all the world beside,
and it's an awkward thing to tell that mine was
not a bit a hopeless love.

Well, it's an old story now. Elsie hid the tiara
away under a lot of frocks and things in her
wardrobe, and so schemed that her maid should dis-
cover it next morning in her presence ; and she
loyally stood up to the General's choleric lecture upon
her unpardonable carelessness, and all was well. I
galloped home with the Sheikh that night the
happiest man in England, and later on Betty and
Lieutenant Foster chose our wedding-day Elsie's
and mine for their own ; and the Sheikh, as his way
was ever, smiled blandly upon us all.

But the tiara is at the General's bank ; and so far
as I am concerned it may remain there.
K

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE

I BE LI EVE I am perfectly safe in surmising that
the most interesting and exciting days of my
friend Sheikh Abd el Majeed's stay in England with me
fell out during the presence in London of the Moorish
Mission to the Court of St James. The members of t
the Mission wer housed by the authorities in a sub-
stantial mansion in the neighbourhood of Princes
Gate, and as I was staying at the time in my father's
town house in Sloane Street, with Abd el Majeed, of
course, the distance between the Sheikh and his
compatriots was trifling. Further, when I tell you
that the head of the Mission, Sidi Abd er,Rahman
Kintafi, was the uncle of the third wife of my Sheikh's
father, it will easily be seen that el Majeed had
some grounds for the frequency of his visits to the
mansion at Princes Gate, and was in no danger of
wearing his welcome thin there.

Myself, as it were vicariously, and by the light
reflected from my Moorish friend, became something
of a persona grata with the members of the Mission,
and, as no other members of my family were then in
town, I found it easy, upon more than one occasion,
to recompense the hospitality with which the Mission
welcomed me at Princes Gate by entertaining old
Sidi Abd er-Rahman and his followers in Sloane
Street. Knowing something of Moorish affairs and
customs, I was enabled to make them very comfort-

146

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 147

able there, and I am not sure whether any of the more
or less splendid functions in which our Government
paid honour to his Shareefian Majesty of Morocco,
through his Ambassador, were sources of more real
enjoyment to Abd er-Rahman and his party than
were the little informal reunions in my father's
Sloane Street residence.

Be that as it may, I am quite sure that the
thorities of our Foreign Office had found much food
r reflection (could they have overheard them) in
me of the conversations which took place there
etween the members of the Mission and myself,
he Moors accepted me as an unofficial friend,
elched over my green tea, specially procured for
eir delectation, devoured bushels of kesk'soo
epared for them in our kitchens under the super-
sion of the Sheikh, were generous in their admira-
on of the two ladies from the " Halls " who were
od enough upon one occasion to demonstrate before
some of the intricacies of the art of skirt-dancing,
id altogether relaxed themselves agreeably from the
rmality of ambassadorial life in the capital of the
ritish Empire.

Their comments upon affairs of state were highly
teresting to me, and their remarks regarding the
nduct of great officials in our land and in theirs
ould have been startling, I fancy, to the grand Bashas
ho rule in Downing Street. For example, I
member the venerable Sidi Abd er-Rahman Kintafi
aving some little discussion with me regarding the
Dcial status in London of the ladies of the ballet who
ad so delighted him with their exhibition of skirt-
ancing. He asked if they would be accorded
Dsitions of special honour during royal receptions

148 MOROCCO

and the like at the Court of St James. I replied
that I hardly thought so.

" Then it is indeed as I thought," said the
Ambassador; "and there can be no doubt but that
your English Government is mightily afraid of my
master, Abd el Aziz of Morocco, and desires to pay
him most humble court, despite the occasional louc
talk of sending warships to enforce claims and the
like. Such talk need not be seriously considered by
us who are of the Faithful, I think."

I requested further enlightenment as to these some-
what remarkable conclusions of the Ambassador's.

" Well, thou seest," he explained, " in our country
the women of our dalliance, the slaves of our women's
quarters, are not thought of seriously by persons oi
rank. They are not at all as wives, you understand.
Now, when I came across the water to your country
here, being a man of note in mine own country and
standing high in the favour of my master may
Allah prolong his days ! I naturally brought some
three or four of my women with me slaves, thou
knowest ; it is not fitting that a believer should subject
his wives to the hazards of travel among infidels.
Now when those my female slaves did alight from the
great ship, your Lord Chamberlain and the high
representatives of your Sovereign, who came to greet
us, did respectfully turn their backs until such time as
these my slave women were effectually hidden in the
train ; and in dismounting from the train here in
London it was the same ; and carefully closed and
shuttered carriages were provided for them, your
greatest officials humbly bowing and turning aside
from their path, much to the secret merriment of these
my slaves, who each and all knew what it was to

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 149

chaffer openly in Marrakish market-place with lowly
sellers of vegetables, and that with scarcely a cloth
over their lips if I may be pardoned for naming
matters so private. Thus then am I assured that my
master and his messengers are greatly feared and
reverenced here among the infidels, who bow down
with so much humility even before the lowliest slaves
among us."

My British pride was made somewhat sore by this
recital, but in the most of the stories and comments I
listened to in the mansion at Princes Gate and in my
father's Sloane Street house I was moved far more to
merriment and interest than to anything approaching
annoyance ; and I saw more clearly than ever before
that the art of diplomacy lay not merely in veiling the
truth, but in setting up an untruth in place thereof;
and further, that the greatest diplomatists appeared to
be those who deceived themselves far more than they
deceived others, and that the ostrich, who looks to
hide himself by burying his own eyes in the sand,
must be the greatest of all diplomatists that live.

During one of my first visits with Sheikh Abd el
Majeed to the mansion near Princes Gate I made the
acquaintance there of a young gentleman fresh from
the University of Oxford, whose name was Jones, and
whose nature seemed equally stereotyped, conven-
tional, and innocently respectable. What he was
doing in that galley I was never quite able to under-
stand ; but I gathered that he was a sort of third
cousin to one of the gentlemen attached to our
embassy in Morocco, and that he cherished mild
hopes of one day entering the diplomatic service
himself, a career for which I ventured to think that his
bland preoccupation with the purely unpractical affairs

150 MOROCCO

of life fitted him to admiration. I never met a young-
gentleman who so exactly resembled a character in
some agreeable and fantastic comedy or story rather
than a flesh-and-blood personage in this busy, striving,
work-a-day world of ours. His innocence regarding
the Oriental character was most marked, and his
interest in the affairs of the Mission was, like his
complexion, singularly fresh, unstained and pleasing.
And that is really all I know about Mr Jones, beyond
the fact that he hired a Court dress for four guineas
from a Jew in Covent Garden in order that he might
appear at Court in the train of Sidi Abd er-Rahman
Kintafi, and that in the course of conversation he
generally made pleasant and innocent remarks which
bore in some way either upon cricket, photography or
the University of Oxford.

The morning of the Mission's first reception at the
Court of St James was a truly great occasion for my
friend, Sheikh Abd el Majeed. As a relative of Sidi
Abd er-Rahman's he accompanied the Mission, whilst
I settled myself with a cigar and a novel in the
Princes Gate Mansion to await the return of my
Moorish friends and hear their account of their brave
doings. Mr Jones was among the European
attendants upon the Mission, resplendent in his
Covent Garden costume, though a little nervous,
I fancied, with regard to the proper disposition of his
nickel-plated sword. He seemed to be greatly in-
spirited by my assuring him that he looked " ripping."
I chose the adjective with forethought, and I think
it served its turn.

Scarcely had the Mission departed in the four
coaches from the royal stables which had come to
convey them, than one of the footmen attached to

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 151

the mansion presented me with the card of a gentle-
man, who described himself as a " Photographic
Artist," in handsome old English lettering, and said
that he had come by appointment with the head of
the Mission to take portraits of the Moorish Am-
bassador and his suite on their return from audience
at the Palace. I requested the footman to show this
Mr Gerald Montgomery into the morning - room,
where I then sat over my novel, and prepared to
entertain him pending the return of the Mission.

Mr Montgomery proved to be a gentleman whose
artistic temperament displayed itself conspicuously
in the fashion of his neck-tie, a truly aesthetic piece of
drapery, in the arrangement of his glossy and
plenteous locks, and in the almost effusive gracious-
ness of his general demeanour. He carried a camera
and other photographic impedimenta with him, and
was attired most elegantly in clothes which I am
assured must have been obtained from the most
expensive quarter of Bond Street. In conversation
I found him what my grandmother would have called
an agreeable rattle ; and, putting aside what seemed
to me an excessive devotion to the use of strong
perfumes, and a rather nervous alertness in manner,
both of which peculiarities I connected in some way
with his artistic temperament, I am bound to say that
I found Mr Montgomery as pleasant a person to pass
the time of day with as you would meet in a day's
march.

It was upon the return of the Mission from their
presentation at Court that Mr Montgomery's habits
of nervousness and the manipulation of a strongly-
scented handkerchief became most strongly marked.
But, to be sure, they were not the sort of peculiarities

152 MOROCCO

at which a man takes umbrage, and for my part I was
moved to friendly sympathy with the Photographic
Artist in his trepidation among the exalted foreigners,
the more so when I overheard old Sidi Abd er-
Rahman growling in his beard, after I had introduced
Mr Montgomery, something to the effect that,

" The Kaffir son of a burnt Kaffir has no right
here among the Faithful. He plagued me with his
letters, but I did not truly say that he might come
here."

Out of sheer good-nature I assured the old Moor
that upon this occasion, when himself and his suite
presented so imposing an appearance, it would be a
thousand pities not to have some permanent record
of their magnificence. As a fact, I think my appeal
to his vanity won over Abd er- Rahman and gained
the day for the Photographic Artist. The Ambassador
had a fancy for a picture of himself robed more
splendidly than he would ever be in his own land,
where the Koranic injunctions regarding display of
finery and the like are very strictly followed by all
classes. About his neck was a fine rope of pearls,
and in one side of his ample turban was stuck a
magnificent aigrette of diamonds and emeralds, lent
him for this one occasion by his royal master, to
whom it had been presented by a great Indian Rajah
who once made pilgrimage to the shrine of Moulai
I drees in Fez.

Mr Montgomery floridly bowed his most graceful
acknowledgements of my efforts to further his cause,
and it was arranged that he should first take a picture
of Sidi Abd er- Rahman, the Ambassador, alone, and
then one of the whole Mission. So now all our
energies were bent upon the task of arranging a becom-

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 153

ing pose for his Excellency, to which end a sort of
throne was prepared from a number of cushions, a
huge armchair, and a dais for the same to stand
upon.

I suppose the now beaming and most gracious
Mr Montgomery must have stepped back and forward
between his velvet-covered camera and the throne of
Abd er- Rahman some score of times in all before he
was quite satisfied regarding the pose of his Excel-
lency's venerable person, and particularly of his
massive and turbaned head.

"You will pardon the liberty," said he, with
smiling deference, as he slightly moved the becrowned
head with both his delicate hands ; and, myself
having interpreted the remark, his Excellency was
pleased to signify his complacence. " There ! That
is perfect. Exactly so, for one moment, please ! "

The Photographic Artist almost rushed back to
the great velvet cover of his machine, and hiding
himself therein, emerged, after a few seconds, smiling
rapturously and announcing that the operation had
been eminently satisfactory.

" And now for the group," said the rosy-cheeked
Mr Jones, who seemed to have grown quite at home
in his knee-breeches and silk stockings by this time,
and carried his tinkling sword with the ease of long
familiarity with the air of Courts.

So we set about arranging ourselves in more or
less picturesque attitudes at one end of the apartment,
until brought to order by the Photographic Artist,
who seemed inclined to hurry over this portion of the
programme, I thought, and who said now that we
should do very well as we were.

" It was only the portrait of Abd er- Rahman that he

154 MOROCCO

was anxious to secure," I told myself. "And that
done, he wants to get away."

And, indeed, it was rather remarkable, the rapidity
with which Mr Montgomery completed his arrange-
ments in the matter of this second operation.

" That must be a deuced funny sort of a camera ;
I should very much like to have a look at it," mur-
mured Mr Jones over my left shoulder. " How in
the world he can focus the whole lot of us at that
distance, spread out like this, I can't imagine. It
must be one of Stuhpelheit's new cameras, I fancy.
I must see the photographer about it before he goes.
Phew ! Why, by Jove, he's finished, and he never
took the cap off! That's devilish odd, you know. I
must cer "

And at that moment a great shout arose from Ibn
Marzuk, his Excellency's slipper-bearer,

" My Lord's crown, the eyes of light with the
flowers of emerald where are they ? "

Every eye was turned upon the snowy turban of
his Excellency. The magnificent aigrette no longer
blazed over his right temple ; the Sultan's jewels,
worth a king's ransom, men said, had vanished utterly.

"To the doors!" screamed old Abd er- Rahman,
who no doubt had seen something of theft and
thievery during his thirty years at the Court of
Morocco. And to be sure it would be no joke for
him, this particular loss. His Shareefian Majesty
has a short way with defaulting ministers, and failing
the return of his aigrette, the chances were that Sidi
Abd er- Rahman would enjoy small favour, but only a
very painful and drawn-out kind of death on his
return to Sunset Land.

I, for one, was prepared to swear that the aigrette

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 155

had been in its place when his Excellency returned
from the presentation at Court. Its wonderful sheen
and brilliance had attracted my attention whilst the
Ambassador was being posed for his portrait.

There was a whispered consultation among the
Moors, from which I caught a growl from the
Ambassador with reference to " El Azfel," that is the
bastinado, for the " N'zrani," or the Christians.
Then it was announced by his Excellency's secretary
that everyone present was to be searched, with the
exception, of course, of the great man himself. I
could think of nothing pertinent to urge against this
step, though I could see that it moved my young
friend, Mr Jones, to very marked disgust and wrath.
As for the Photographic Artist, the only other
"Nazarene" then present, he was most obliging in
the matter, and, having expressed deep regret regard-
ing this singular incident, moved his camera aside
and stood beside Mr Jones and myself, with his hands
raised above his head, like a man "bailed up" by
brigands, the better, I suppose, to facilitate a thorough
search of his person. Certainly I could see that this
action of his commended him favourably to Sidi Abd
er-Rahman, though it did not appear to please Mr
Jones.

" Bai Jove!" muttered that young gentleman.
" Does he think we are a lot of bally pick-pockets, or
convicts, or what ? "

To cut the story short, let me say that we were all
very thoroughly searched, Moors and Christians
alike, and never a sign of the Sultan's splendid
aigrette was discovered. Anger and consternation
strove for mastery in the almost livid face of the old
Ambassador. I gathered that he was in favour of an

156 MOROCCO

immediate administration of the bastinado, in the case
of the Christians present, at all events with a view to
encouraging a confession. Then my friend the
Sheikh stepped forward.

" Sidi," said he to the Ambassador, "this talk of
the stick is worse than foolish where such gentlemen
as my friend, for example, are concerned." He waved
one hand in my direction, and I acknowledged the
tribute with a bow. I have seen the bastinado
administered in Sunset Land, and had no wish to
prove my honesty by tasting of it myself. " Further,
Sidi, I, Abd el Majeed, would myself cut down the
first man, though he were our lord the Sultan, who
should lay hands upon my friend, whose bread we
have all eaten. But I would have a word with thee
privately, Sidi."

The Sheikh drew the Ambassador aside, and
together they muttered for some moments, Abd er
Rahman nodding his turbaned old head vigorously,
as in emphatic agreement with my Sheikh's sugges-
tions. Then the Sheikh moved forward to where a
massive silver ink-pot stood upon a writing-table, and
raising the lid of the ink-pot, paused to look about
him round the room. At length his eyes fell upon
Mr Jones, who was somewhat sulkily playing with his
sword, and swearing under his breath by Jove, his
favourite, apparently, among the gods.

With great politeness the Sheikh requested Mr
Jones to approach him and to hold out his right
hand. This the young gentleman from the Univer-
sity accordingly did, and into the centre of his pink
right palm the Sheikh proceeded to splash a great
round blob of ink, which he scooped out of the ink-pot
with a sort of ivory egg-spoon (a nail-cleaner, as I

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 157

was afterwards informed), handed him for the purpose
by one of the attendants.

His ink-blotted pink palm extended before him,
Mr Jones followed the Sheikh to the large bay
window, and there halted. The Sheikh assumed a
demeanour of great earnestness, and passed his
extended hands several times to and fro before the
young gentleman's face, commanding him at the
same time to look fixedly into the little pool of ink
upon his right palm. Then ensued whispered talk
between the Sheikh and Mr Jones, of which I caught
only occasional phrases here and there. That Mr
Jones was now as wax in the hands of the Sheikh
was apparent to the most casual observer.

" Look well ! Where goes he now ? Mark well
the"

I caught no more.

Suddenly the Sheikh bent forward and wiped the
ink from the hand of Mr Jones. Then he made
some further movements with his hands before the
young gentleman's face and turned away. Mr Jones
shook his head, coughed, blinked once or twice, and
walked slowly to my side, muttering, as though this
singular incident of the ink-splash had not occurred at
all, " Bai Jove ! Do they take us for a lot of pick-
pockets, or what ? "

" Gentlemen, this very regretful incident is one
which I deeply deplore" it was the Photographic
Artist who began to speak now, his manner suggest-
ing a curious blend of extreme nervous haste and
extreme deference " but as I am expected in the
matter of three other professional engagements this
morning, I fear that I must ask you to excuse me
now. I er in fact, it is highly necessary, I would

158 MOROCCO

say, that I really must be going without further
delay."

And the Artist gathered up his photographic
oddments as he spoke. But, to his confusion, it
appeared that no sort of attention was paid to the
matter of his extremely polite remarks. The door-
keepers fixed their regard upon the ceiling, and my
friend the Sheikh was busy in a whispered conversa-
tion with his Excellency the Ambassador.

" Sir ! " cried the Sheikh, suddenly wheeling
round upon the Photographic Artist, " be not so
hasty, I beg you. The loss we all deplore is a great
one, but my Lord, his Excellency, is not a man of one
jewel. Let us put it aside ; and since you have the
picture of his Excellency, who is a relation of mine,
I beg you will now take one of me without delay.
See, I stand ! "

And my friend the Sheikh threw himself at once
into a pose of really splendid defiance. Just so and
not otherwise might a Moorish Emperor have
received an ambassadorial petitioner from the
infidels in the bad old days of that sainted butcher,
Moulai Ismail, of bloody but revered memory in
Morocco.

To my surprise the artistic value of the picture
did not seem to appeal to Mr Montgomery. Indeed,
it seemed at first he would not take the portrait, so he
fussed and nervously insisted upon the value of his
time, and the necessity for his immediate de-
parture.

"You will take my portrait," said the Sheikh,
quietly, but with exceeding masterfulness. And the
Photographic Artist proceeded forthwith to arrange
his camera in position.

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 159

"Thank you!" said he, mechanically, when the
operation was completed.

" And now let me see the picture," demanded the
Sheikh. And I was surprised at the ignorance he
isplayed, for I had once before had occasion to
xplain to him that photographs require development,
ir Montgomery naturally protested that there was as
et no picture to show.

" Natheless, I will see it," persisted Sheikh Abd
1 Majeed, walking threateningly toward the camera.

" Oh, come, you know, but that's absurd," put in
VEr Jones, advancing upon the photographer's side.
You can't, you know, until it's developed."

"Do you refuse?" demanded the Sheikh, in
tentorian tones, of the now hopelessly confused
'hotographic Artist.

" You see, my dear sir, it is impossible to show
ou now, and I really must be going. I think it is
ot a very good picture indeed, that is to say I "

With one blow of his fist the Sheikh sent the
:amera flying off its stand, and before Mr Jones, who
ras indignantly running to the photographer's
ssistance, muttering something about a " benighted
avage, " could interfere, the Sheikh had effectually
mashed the machine with his foot.

" Now get me my picture," said he, as though the
Breaking of the instrument made the immediate
production of his portrait quite simple.

" I really cannot possibly wait I must leave at
Dnc e I "

The Photographic Artist showed a great deal of
latural distress over the smashing of his instrument,
md surprisingly little resentment, I thought, as he
noved toward the door.

160 MOROCCO

" Let no man leave this room," thundered old
Abd er-Rahman.

So there we stood. Meantime, Mr Jones, an
ardent photographer himself, had picked up the
broken camera and was carefully examining it, with a
view to determining the extent of its injuries, I
supposed. Seeing this, the very embarrassed Mr
Montgomery flew to his side and seized the fractured
instrument quite jealously.

" Er pray don't trouble ! " said he, like Mr Toots.
" It's of no consequence whatever, I assure you ;
it's not of the slightest consequence er it's not
a very good camera."

" Indeed," said Mr Jones, " I quite thought it
must be one of Stuhpelheit's new panoramic ex-
tensions when I saw how you managed that big
group. I wish you'd let me have a look at it.
What's the idea in that sort of sunken space under
the back screw ? "

"Oh, that is merely a flaw in er But I will
explain it to you at my studio with pleasure. Perhaps
you will call round I er I really must er "

The Photographic Artist was obviously very much
put about. I felt quite sympathetic for him.

" Let me see that," put in Sheikh Abd el Majeed,
striding up to Mr Montgomery. "There I shall find
my picture, perhaps."

" Indeed, sir, I assure you that it is not possible
for your picture to er "

" You can't possibly see it, now you've stupidly
smashed the thing, you know," said Mr Jones, speak-
ing with feeling for a fellow-photographer, no doubt.

The Sheikh said nothing, but snatched the camera
from the hands of the Photographic Artist, who, to

WAYSIDE ENTERTAINERS IN MOROCCO: A VERY OLD HAND AT THE GIMI3RI

HIS EXCELLENCY'S AIGRETTE 161

my astonishment, turned at once and fled wildly
toward one of the doors. " He probably thinks now
that he has fallen among savage cannibals at least," I
thought, and walked after Mr Montgomery with a
view to reassuring him. Hearing a shout behind me,
I turned in time to see the Sheikh slit open the recess
below the camera with the point of hjs dagger, thus
exposing his Excellency's magnificent aigrette, or
rather the Sultan's, neatly ensconced in cotton-wool.

Sidi Abd er-Rahman hoarsely demanded that the
right hand and left foot of the Photographic Artist
should at once be cut off, this being the method
most approved in such circumstances in the realm of
:his Shareefian Lord and Master. I ventured to
nterpose here, for already two-, attendants had
jdragged the barely conscious Mr Montgomery to the
side of his Excellency's cushions. I explained that
we Britishers had a prejudice in favour of formal trial
md sentence in these matters, and requested that a
jbotman belonging to the house might at once be sent
)ut for a police-officer.

After some rather fierce discussion, in the course
>f which his suspense seemed to weigh very heavily
ipon Mr Montgomery, this was done, and the artist,
ith his wonderful camera, his flowing but dis-
,rranged neck-tie, and his other belongings, was
emoved from our presence by a stalwart member of
;he Metropolitan force. We learned in the course of
he week that Mr Montgomery was one of the most
xpert jewel thieves in Europe, an artist indeed, and
ne for whom the police were already anxiously
king in connection with another and a more
iccessful robbery than the present one.
But I never quite got to the bottom of my
L

162 MOROCCO

Sheikh's experiment with the ink-blot in the rosy
hand of young Mr Jones. I gathered that it was the
Moorish form of crystal-gazing, and the Sheikh said
he had enabled Mr Jones, by hypnotism, to see the
whole theft in the ink-blot. But whatever the process
the Sheikh certainly managed the matter very ably,
as we all agreed. And he now wears a very hand-
some silver-sheathed dagger, with a big emerald in its
haft, sent him by the Sultan after the story reached
Morocco.

THE SHEIKH AND THE GREAT
NORTHERN

WE of the West, with our wireless telegraphy,
and our Science in Snippets for the multi-
tude, are apt to think that we have said the last word
and thought the last thought in most matters. We
sjare apt to forget, too, that many of our most wonder-
ul and well-trumpeted discoveries were matters of
icommon knowledge many centuries ago to folk whose
uticle is different from ours and whom we regard as
vages. I suppose this is an integral fibre of our
holesome British pride, and of that royal confidence
n ourselves which alone makes it possible for
s to dominate a very large share of the earth's
urface. So far, so good. But the under-rating of
;he powers of the "savages" and "semi-savages" is
little misleading, and involves an occasional shock of
urprise for us.

Now, take the matter of hypnotism. I fancied
hat Paris and London knew all that was worth
Jj:nowing about that subject. I don't think so now.
found, for example, in Morocco, that pretty nearly
ery Moor one met with knew as much about
nesmerism, in practice if not in theory, as do any of
he professing exponents of the art, or science, or
/hatever you call it, in Europe. It was my
iend, Sheikh Abd el Majeed, who opened my eyes to
is, as to a good many other matters of interest. He

163

164 MOROCCO

heard me one day in Tangier instructing a groom in
the matter of a sick horse.

"And mind," said I to the groom, " don't you
leave the stable till I return. No loafing down to Bab
el Fas cafe, mind. Be sure I shall see you if you go
out. You stay right here till I get back."

Of course the man promised, and equally, of course,
I suspect he strolled down to the city gate caf6, or to
some other centre of gossip, as soon as my back was
turned.

"Why does the Sidi think he would see his
servant in the town if his servant desired not to be
seen?" asked Sheikh Abd el Majeed.

" Why? Because I mean to keep my eyes opei
of course," was my innocent English reply.

" H'm ! And does the Sidi suppose that he coul<
see me in the town if I wished him not to see me ? "

I indicated my readiness to wager that I would i
the Sheikh were within eye-shot from the public
streets ; and then it was that my friend explained to
me the every-day uses to which hypnotism is put in
Morocco. I confess I had my doubts about it.

" Where does the Sidi ride this evening ?" asked
the Sheikh.

" By Bubanah, and home through Shwaanee and
along the beach," said I.

"Good! Let the Sidi look for me along the
beach, within half a mile of the town," said the
Sheikh, in his confoundedly superior way, as it might
be he was humouring some sceptical child.

"He'll have to shrink into something mighty |}
small if I am not to see him on that beach," I
thought. And accordingly, as soon as I reached the
sands on my homeward way, I slowed my stallion

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 165

down to a walk and made up my mind to scrutinise
carefully every soul I passed upon the beach.

But I saw no sign of Sheikh Abd el Majeed. In
act, I only met about a score of people altogether.
Dlose to the corner where one turns for the hill road
o the Sok, I caught sight of Trefane, the Danish
consul, and pulled up alongside him for a chat.

"You haven't seen anything of Sheikh Abd el
Vlajeed, my new familiar, have you ? " I asked after
he usual salutations.

" Isn't that the man sitting there by those nets?"
aid he.

As I hope to be forgiven, the Sheikh was sitting

iwithin fifty yards of us. I had just passed him.

Trefane said the Sheikh had certainly sat there with-

ut moving during the last ten minutes, for he himself

had been looking out for the Gibraltar steamer during

that time, and had seen the Sheikh all the while.

And I had looked into the face of every single person

saw on that beach.

" But that is nothing at all," said the Sheikh,

fterwards. " Any street idler might do so much

ust prevent your seeing him. It is easy to prevent

our seeing a thing that is ; where skill comes is in

making you see a thing which is not."

But all this is a shocking digression (though not
without purpose), for I want to tell you about my
ousin, Harry Forbes, and how the Sheikh helped him
n England.

You would probably know almost as much about
iarry as I do if I gave his real name, since a young
nan may not run through a fortune of three-quarters
f a million, and pick himself up again, without
Attracting a good deal of attention. But for obvious

166 MOROCCO

reasons I refrain from using Harry's real second name.
Therefore you will think of him, if you please, as
a young man of twenty-six whose mother had died
when he was a child, and whose father, who died
when Harry was twenty-three, had left him close upon
eight hundred thousand pounds in good securities, a
small annuity so wisely tied up that it could not be
disposed of, and Itchet Park. Itchet Park was a fine
inheritance in itself; a fine old mansion, built in the
reign of the first George, and one of the finest parks
in the north of England. But Harry had started
business as a patron of the turf, even before his father
died ; and well, you know, the turf demands a go<
deal of its young patrons. The youngster had nol
done so badly, from the sporting point of view, an<
there is no doubt he knew a horse when he saw on<
His training stables contained some very fine animah
and they did a good deal of winning for him. But
Harry's head for figures was not remarkable, and it
seemed he could never resist the temptation to plunge
in betting. Standing to win a thousand seemed a poor
sort of business to Harry. He must needs go out and
double and treble his wagers before the thought of
them gave him an atom of satisfaction. Yet he had
his occasional fits of caution and remorse ; and when
a horse of Harry's won it frequently brought nothing
in its owner's pocket to balance his very heavy losses
on previous races.

When Harry asked me to go and spend a week at
Itchet Park, and see him win the Great Northern
Handicap, I asked permission to bring Sheikh Abd
el Majeed with me, knowing that the Moor would be
intensely interested in the racing, and being anxious
to show him something of what Englishmen could do

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 167

with horses. Harry wrote back welcoming us both
"And anyone else you like to bring. There's
heaps of room, and plenty of grub at present.
And there will be heaps more when Starlight has
passed the judge's box on Tuesday."

So I was prepared to learn that my cousin had
been plunging again ; but it was not until the night
before the great race that I realised how deeply.

Sheikh Abd el Majeed was, as I had foreseen,
deeply interested in Harry's stables, where, as guests
of honour, we were admitted on the evening of our
arrival at Itchet Park, to see the horses and be
introduced to Starlight, the red-hot favourite for the
Great Northern. I think I never saw a more
beautiful animal in my life, and his condition was
superb. Trained to the last turn of concert pitch,
Starlight was a ruddy bay model of what a racehorse
should be ; satin-coated and thighed like an ostrich ;
a mass of muscle and nerves, he chewed the edge of
his manger while the Sheikh ran one sensitive hand
down the sinewy pasterns and stroked the gleaming
flank. The mere appearance of the beast in his
beautifully-kept box conveyed a wonderfully strong
impression of lightning speed, tireless endurance, and
ability to spring to the gallop as an arrow leaves a
bow.

< 'Y' Allah t'if!" exclaimed the Sheikh, in deep-
breathing admiration. "What a horse!"

And the jealous stable-boy, whose bed was in the
next box, glanced at Abd el Majeed as though fearful
lest some fateful charm had been pronounced over the
creature whose care was this lad's religion. But
Harry Forbes understood and warmed to the
Moor.

168 MOROCCO

"Yes; he's a beauty, isn't he?" said Harry,
drawing his rug over Starlight's haunches. "And
he's going to set me straight with the world on
Tuesday. Nothing can stop him unless it's Wilson's
Jason, and "

" If ye please, sir, our Starlight can leave 'im
standing ! " The stable-boy would have fought any-
one else but his master who had ventured upon the
expression of even so much doubt, I fancied.

I have my doubts as to whether the Sheikh ever
enjoyed anything in England as he enjoyed that first
day's racing of the Great Northern meeting on
Monday. Harry passed us everywhere, even to the
weighing-room, and the Sheikh studied English racing
from the inside, as the saying is, in the saddling-
paddock, and among the jockeys and grooms. He
was presented to the famous jockey who was to ride
Starlight on the morrow, and to his equally famous
compeer who was to steer the second favourite, Jason.
He talked earnestly and humbly with both, learning
with every step he took and every word he heard.
He was shown the judge's box, walked over the
course, and was instructed in the details of the
management of races.

Starlight was not running that day, but Jason
was ; and when the Sheikh had examined the second
favourite he confided to me with a sigh that he had
had no idea there would be other horses so fit to ride
against my cousin's Starlight.

" But, to be sure, to win even by the breadth of
my hand is sufficient ? " said he.

"Ay, or of thy finger," I agreed ; and that seemed
to comfort him.

It was late that night, in the smoking-room, when

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 169

the rest of his guests had gone to bed, that Harry told
me just what the next day's race would mean for him.
The Sheikh squatted on a cushion beside us, smoking
Bastos cigarettes, and was no barrier to my cousin's
confidence. I suppose they joined hands in their
mutual love of a good horse. In any case I had
seen that the Sheikh was more drawn toward Harry
than he had been toward any other man to whom I
had introduced him. And Harry met his advances,
and seemed to reciprocate his feelings most heartily.

"Thundering good chap, your Sheikh," said he to
me; "and as for being a darkey, as that fool said on
the course to-day why, he's no more of a darkey
than I am ! He's got a devilish sharp eye for a horse,
and I'm glad to find he admires Star as much as he
does. I never saw a man handle a horse more under-
standingly. Old Star would have let the Sheikh sit
between his hoofs ; and he won't stand liberties from
most folk, either. He won't from me, I know."

I explained to Harry that your Moor was, so to
say, born a-horseback, and that horse-lore was
hereditary among Arabs. And then we fell to talk
of Harry's circumstances. I knew he had plighted
his troth to a Miss Dighton ; one of the Leicestershire
Dightons, who, as everyone knows, are as poor as
church mice. My people had tried to put obstacles in
the way, for, from the worldly point of view, a more
unwise match could hardly be conceived ; but neither
they nor I understood just how unwise it was.

" What do you think I stand to win on Starlight
to-morrow ? " said Harry, reflectively, chewing the end
of his cigar.

" Ten thousand," said I, knowing his plunging
habits.

170 MOROCCO

"Ten thousand on the Great Northern Handi-
cap ! Why, I lost more than that last week. No, my
son, Starlight's got to win nearly two hundred thousand
for me to-morrow ; and what's more, if he doesn't win
it I sha'n't have a stick or stone to call my own after
next settling-day, bar the little annuity that poor Dad
tied up so deuced tight that I couldn't raise eighteen-
pence on it."

I stared. "Two hundred thousand and Star-
light's at six to four on ! "

"Well, of course, I did better than that. I didn't
make my book yesterday, though I'm bound to say
the odds were confoundedly tight about Star from the
very start. His Newmarket win fixed that and
didn't bring me a thousand pounds, confound it ! "

There was silence between us for a few minutes,
and, watching Harry's face, the conviction was born<
in upon me that this race was no ordinary plunge for
him, but a matter of life and death. The sporting
element of it was lost, clean out of sight ; it was not
just a win or a loss, it was a win or ruin, for my
cousin, and the shadow of it was heavy upon his face.
He seemed to read my thoughts, for, presently, he laid
one hand upon my shoulder, and his voice broke a
little as he said to me,

" By God, old man, I tell you Star has just got to
win this time or you'll never hear of me any more.
This week has been almost more than I could stand.
If anything went wrong there wouldn't be enough left
to settle my bills with. If all's well, and Star wins
Phew ! I'm clear. I should be married in a month,
and yes, I shall be done with racing for good and
all. If Star's beaten it means the Colonies, or a
bullet for me ! "

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 171

" lyeh, by Allah, but Star will win ! " said the
Sheikh, quietly, and touching Harry's knee with one
hand.

I had forgotten the Sheikh, and so, for the moment,
I think, had Harry.

" Thanks, Sheikh, thanks! I hope he will, I'm
sure," said Harry. " Have some more coffee ? "

The Sheikh declined the coffee and rose to leave
us for the night. " But make you no trouble in your
mind," said he, earnestly, to Harry. " I have said it ;
by Allah, the Star shall win ! " And with that he left
us.

" He's a good chap, your Sheikh," said Harry to
me ; " but but I suppose my nerves are a bit jumpy,
or something. I declare he made me shiver just now ;
talking like that, as though he were a sort of Provi-
dence and could make horses win or lose as he liked.
I tell you the strain of this thing is more than a man
can stand. I've grown old in the last week, and a
fellow has to keep a stiff upper lip among racing men,
and with guests in the house, too. Lord ! Lord !
What would the dear old pater have said to the
ownership of Itchet Park hanging on a horse-race?"

" But, look here, Harry, can't you hedge ? " I said.
" Couldn't you lay off some of it on Jason, in case of
accidents ? "

II Oh, well, if you talk of accidents, what's to pre-
vent an outsider romping home ? "

I sighed. But the thought of what a disaster for
Harry failure would mean possessed me, and I stuck
to the hedging idea so closely that before we parted
for the night he had agreed to see what could be done
next morning in the matter of laying off a few
hundreds of pounds upon Jason.

172 MOROCCO

" Bar accidents," he said, " Jason's the only horse
I fear. But he well, if what Wilson tells me is true,
Jason ought to just about beat Star on the post. It's
that that's made me old this week. I ought to have
hedged as soon as I knew what Jason had done in his
trial last week ; but old Star well, I don't know.
I didn't anyhow!"

But I had Harry's promise for the morning, and
comforted myself with that as I turned in for the
night.

But my comfort was stripped from me when we
started for the course next morning. (The distance
was no more than three miles, and Harry's horses
were always taken by road.) My cousin had made
the poorest sort of pretence at breaking his fast, and
now, though with his high colour and bright eyes he
looked well enough to the casual observer, he seemed
to me to be in a high fever of excitement. When we
mounted the Itchet drag Harry declined to take the
ribbons, and I knew his nerves must be in a pretty bad
state when he felt unfit to handle his own team.

" I'm right off hedging," he muttered to me as we
started. " After all, it's a snivelling sort of business."
I'd rather stand or fall. Star deserves so much, by
gad! I'll not hedge a penny piece!"

The Sheikh's learning had not carried him far
enough to understand what was meant by hedging,
but he nodded his approval at Harry, and said, in his
quiet, impressive way, "Star will win; I have said
it ! " It was not like him, I thought, to make confident
assertions without having some ground to base them
on. Could he really know, from his examination of
the two horses most concerned ? At all events, I
envied him his confidence.

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 173

" Now we must just go and say good-morning to
Starlight and wish him luck," said Harry, when he
reached the saddling-paddock gate. " Come along,
Sheikh, and give our horse your blessing ! "

" First, I want you to let me see Jason and that
boy with the old man's face who is to ride him," said
the Sheikh. " Then I will say ' B'ism Illah ' over the
Star."

Harry laughed nervously. " All right," he said.
" But don't be killing Jason's jock for the love you
bear Starlight, Sheikh, for that wouldn't win our race
for us."

" Nay," said the Sheikh, gravely, as one who
should protest he had never injured a fly ; " there is
to be no killing here ; there is no need of killing, but
only of racing. And the Star, he is to win."

Jason's wizened jockey, the hero of a thousand
victories, shook hands with Sheikh Abd el Majeed
with great good humour. What the little man did
not know about horses and racing was not very well
worth knowing, and it was his conviction that he was
to ride the winner of the Great Northern that day.

" There is a little black there so ! " Delicately
the Sheikh had touched the famous jockey's forehead
with the forefinger of his slim right hand. The jockey
acknowledged the attention a little awkwardly, I
thought, and his eyes fell in a shamefaced way from
the Sheikh's face.

'" So you are riding to to win to-day, hey ? " said
the Sheikh.

"Er what? Why, yes," said the jockey. It
was very odd, I thought, the way in which the words
seemed to be forced from him, as humility might be
forced from a bully.

174 MOROCCO

" Ah ye-es ! " said the Sheikh, slowly. " But
sometimes how you say it ? In my country we say
success is never so far as when the finger-tips touch it.
Between the touch and the grasp you understand
Nay, nay ; there is no need of words. I wish you
strength, Sahhah ! "

It was an irritating way to talk to a jockey just
before his race, I thought, and I was quite surprised
that the man stood it so quietly ; to be sure, he looked
sullen and resentful enough, but he stepped forward
briskly as a stable-boy in hopes of a tip when the
Sheikh asked him some trivial question.

The first two races excited no great attention, but
betting was brisk on the big event of the day, and
before the horses were led out for their preliminary
canter Starlight had given place to Jason as first
favourite. It was as though Harry's nervousness had
communicated itself to the public ; and certainly their
loss of faith in Starlight had its effect upon poor
Harry. The poor fellow only kept outward control
of himself by a prodigious effort, and when I spoke to
him, begged me in a whisper to ask him nothing till
the race was run.

" Keep near me, old man. By gad ! it's more than
I can stand. What the devil can have put them off
old Star like this ? They're giving three to one about
him. By gad ! I'll have another hundred on him,
hang me if I won't ! "

And he did, despite all my arguments against it.

11 Peace ! peace ! " murmured the Sheikh in my
ear. " The Star shall win. I have said it."

The crowd yelled their cheers as the two favourites
minced past the grand stand together after the canter.
Harry, the Sheikh, myself, and a few others of

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 175

Harry's party secured places close to the rails next
the judge's box. We were within a few yards of the
fateful post itself. From this you will know, if you
know the Great Northern course, that we had a very
fair view of the starting-place, and a perfect view of
the best straight in England. The first and the last
half-mile of the race would be a panorama for us ; but
we were too low to see much of the intervening
three-quarters of a mile.

"They're off!" shouted the crowd, and the
book-makers suddenly ceased from troubling. Silence
fell upon the great course and the multitude that
hemmed it in. It was a fine start. First came two
outsiders whose names I did not know ; then a raw,
leggy chestnut, very fast but no stayer for that
distance, I thought ; then Starlight, stretching com-
fortably in an inside position with Jason a good
length in the rear, and half-hidden by the ruck. A
splendid field, and Already they were out of
sight.

All the colour had left Harry's face now, and he
looked ten years more than his age as he turned half
round to watch the faces on the stand for indications
of the progress of the race.

" Turn-turn ! tut-sah ! " he was muttering to him-
self ; and every other moment his tongue moved to
moisten his dry lips, whilst his left hand crushed a
cigar, and his right fore-finger and thumb jerked at
the end of his moustache. The Sheikh leaned upon
the rails, his eyes glued upon that quarter of the
course from which the horses entered the straight and
our range of vision.

"Starlight leads!"

The crowd roared itself hoarse as the field

176 MOROCCO

appeared again, and I heard Harry, craning his head
behind me, take in his breath with a gulp.

"The sport of kings is mighty wearing to some
commoners," I thought.

There was no sort of doubt but that the race was
between the two favourites. The public were so far
right. Starlight and Jason entered the half-mile
straight a length and a half ahead of the field, which
was bunched thickly ; and Starlight was three-quarters
of a length in advance of Jason. We could hear the
thunder of their hoofs now. I saw Tom Gunner's
whip rise over Starlight's flank.

"Too soon! Too soon!" groaned Harry behind
me.

Jason was creeping steadily on. His nose reached
Tom Gunner's knee, and passed it. They were neck
and neck, and there they stayed through a little
eternity. The crowd gasped.

" Starlight ! Jason ! Starlight ! Jason ! "

The tension was horribly acute. Tom Gunner's
whip was going like a flail. And now I saw the whip
of Jason's jockey rise and fall once, twice. The grey
crept forward. There was no doubt about it.
" Jason wins! " yelled the crowd. Jason was a neck
and a half ahead, and the whip had barely spoken to
him yet. On they came, the earth shaking under
them, Jason winning by a quarter of his length. The
Sheikh, leaning far over the rails, was muttering away
in Arabic during the whole of this time. Suddenly
his voice rose, almost to a shout.

" Drook ! " that is, " Now ! " was the word that
left him ; and his two corn-coloured hands, palms
outward, shot out before me like unleashed hawks.
" Racecourses are no places for you, my friend,"

SHEIKH AND GREAT NORTHERN 177

thought I. And then I thought no more of that, for
the great roar that went up from the crowd assembled
on that course drowned thought.

" Starlight ! Starlight wins ! "

It was really most extraordinary. I saw the
jockey's shoulders twitch, and I could almost have
sworn he jagged at Jason's mouth. Certainly the
favourite's stride shortened. Starlight's blood-red
nostrils were level with his nostrils. They shot past.
They were at the post'; Starlight a good head and
neck in advance, the ruck of the field thundering after
them, Harry Forbes shaking both my hands, in
tremulous fashion, and the Great Northern Handi-
cap was run and won.

A few minutes later we were in the saddling-
paddock, the Sheikh and myself, to welcome Harry
as he led the winner in, to the accompaniment of
deafening applause from the crowd. A rasping voice
behind me made me turn to look at those who accom-
panied the second horse, the beaten favourite.

" But, God in heaven, man, you simply pulled up ! "

It was Wilson, the owner of Jason, addressing
the most sourly crestfallen jockey in England, who,
for his part, had not a word to say in his defence ;
though I heard later* that in the weighing-room he
was heard savagely to grunt out a statement to the
effect that he believed he had been bewitched.

It was not till several days later that I was able
to get anything out of Sheikh Abd el Majeed on the
subject ; and then he only said,

" It is not so easy, Sidi, to make a man do things
as to prevent him seeing you ; but with a little care, a
little practice, we Moors can do a good deal with
what you call mesmerism."

M

178 MOROCCO

In my heart I knew perfectly well that Jason
could have won that race, and would have won it,
but for the Sheikh's exercise of will-power upon the
jockey. It may have been my duty to have explained
this to the stewards ; but should I have been
thanked, or called a lunatic ? And then there was
Harry; it was fortune or ruin for him. What would
you have done ?

Anyhow, I have told what happened, and I know
that it was not Starlight, but Sheikh Abd el Majeed,
who won the Great Northern Handicap that year.

A week before Harry was married to Miss
Dighton he told the Sheikh he wanted to make hi
a present.

" Somehow, I believe it was your blessing mad
old Star win, Sheikh. Now what can I give you ? "

The Sheikh smiled. He knew.

"Your blessing, friend, that I, too, may win,"
said he.

And, in addition to the blessing, Harry gave the
Sheikh the best hunter in his stables.

THE ROYAL NAVY OF MOROCCO

r I ^HERE was once an American boy, the son
i of a Chicago millionaire, and this boy was
domiciled at an English public school. He was a
millionaire in his own right, from the standpoint of his
English school-mates. One of his whims, the most
grievous among many, was to purchase costly, delicate
and highly intricate mechanical contrivances, ap-
parently with the aim of showing how quickly he
could tire of them, and, having tired of them, destroy
the beautiful, complex things by leaving them lying
about in playgrounds, by sitting on them, and by
other apeish and unpleasing devices. Now, at this
same school was an English boy whose loving
interest in mechanical contrivances amounted to a
passion. Financially this inventor in embryo was the
poorest boy in the school. On a certain sunny
summer afternoon this lad fell upon the American
youth and came near to slaying him with a cricket
stump, over the rusted ruins of an exquisite little
model engine which the rich boy was kicking in
sunder. When he was healed of his wounds and
whole once more, one found that the episode had
exerted a most beneficial effect upon the destructively-
inclined young millionaire.

I inspected the Moorish armoured cruiser, Bashir,
the other day ' and I was filled with a desire to turn

1 In the spring of 1901. The Sultan sold his costly toy last year.

179

180 MOROCCO

that English boy loose, with his stump , among the
Moorish authorities responsible for the purchase and
subsequent maltreatment of this costly, delicate and
highly intricate mechanical contrivance. But there !
The poor lad's heart would break when, after inter-
minable stump-wielding, he found, as find he would,
that no power on earth could amend the chastised
ones or preserve from ultimate ruination their toy.

You must know that for quite a number of years
past there has been a Moorish navy. I am not re-
ferring, of course, to the " saleemans," xebecs and
caravels of the palmy Moorish days of the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries, but to this present
age of the Moorish empire's decay. This navy
consisted of two small merchant steamers, purchased
from Europe Sid et Turki of 385 tons' register, and
Al Hassanee of 1000 tons. These little steamers,
each carrying a few guns, have made Tangier Bay
their head-quarters, are captained and officered by
German merchant seamen, and have been used
principally for the conveying of grain and stores to
and from coast towns in Morocco when not occupied
in the transport of prisoners or of the pickled heads
of rebels. This latter task is an important branch of
the Moorish naval service, which, one is pleased to
say, led to the resignation, after ineffectual protesta-
tions, of the only Englishmen employed in it.

Early in the decade just ended the Italian
embassy in Tangier proceeded on a mission to the
Moorish Court in the interior. Among other matters
then pressed upon the Sultan (the father of the
present ruler) it is said that he was invited to order a
modern armoured cruiser to be built for him in an
Italian dockyard at a cost of something under

THE ROYAL NAVY OF MOROCCO 181

^100,000. The vessel could be used as a royal
yacht for the conveyance of Allah's Anointed, the
then prince Abd el Aziz, on his pilgrimage to Holy
Mekka. At all events a member of the Italian
Embassy remained for close on eighteen months at
the Court, and, as a reward for his diplomatic patience,
at the end of that time returned to Tangier with an
order for Italy in his hand for a modern noo-ton
armoured cruiser. This cruiser, the Bashir, was built
in 1894, in the Fratelli Orlando dockyard at Leghorn,
and a bill was presented to the Sultan for an amount
between ^80,000 and ,90,000. The cruiser was to
be manned for the most part by Italians.

Then began the complications the Legation
complications, which are the inevitable stumbling-
block in the way of any new departure, progressive or
otherwise, in this distressful country. All the other
Powers, with a smile and a bow for Italy, turned
frowningly upon the Sultan and began to rend him
upon the question of cruisers. Each one demanded,
like an eager bagman, an order such as Italy had ob-
tained. " Plague take the thing and the whole
accursed tribe of Nazarenes ! " one imagines the
Sultan saying. What he openly said was, in effect,
" Very well, then, I won't take the Italian cruiser and
I won't pay for it. Perhaps that will content you
other fellows."

A certain number of Moors had entered the
Italian navy to be trained. They were left there,
and the Sultan, doubtless with relief, washed his
sacred hands of the whole affair. The Powers fell
back and dozed again ; and Italy commenced a treat-
ment of quarterly pin-prickings, in the shape of
reminders that their order had been completed, the

182 MOROCCO

goods, according to sample, were ready for delivery,
and a settlement of account by return would oblige.
The Moorish Government, from long habit, are
inured to this kind of thing, and can bear up under
it quite singularly well. They bore up, the Sultan
and his Wazeers, until the former died. The virtue
of patient endurance descended with the Imperial
Parasol, it seemed, to his son, the present Right Hand
of Allah upon earth. And the cruiser remained at
Leghorn.

Objecting, naturally, to the unbusiness-like practice
of keeping ordered stock indefinitely on hand, Italy,
so to say, dropped in, in a friendly way, upon the
other Powers, and requested them to let up and spoil
sport no longer. " Very well," said the other Powers
at length, over their Chianti, shall we say, " You
send in your goods and get a settlement ; but, mark
this, on the distinct understanding that you don't let
it occur again, and that no Power interested in
Morocco shall allow its subjects to man the cruiser? "

So, at long last, the cruiser steamed away from
Leghorn for Tangier Bay, where she dropped anchor
in the autumn of 1900. The Moors who had been
trained in the Italian navy were aboard her, but could
not handle the vessel. So she was brought here by
Italians, who departed from her, according to agree-
ment, when she reached Moorish waters. The cruiser,
a beautiful yacht-like little vessel, being securely
moored, a crew was appointed by the Tangier
authorities, and the Bashir was handed over to its
tender mercies. The newly-appointed paymaster (in
Moorish affairs the paymaster is always the real
master) had never before trod a ship's deck, I am
informed. The Moorish gentlemen of Italian naval

THE ROYAL NAVY OF MOROCCO 183

training came ashore in all the glory of Italian naval
uniform slightly modified, and proceeded to their
respective homes in the interior. In a few weeks they
made one task of the doffing of civilisation and of the
clothing of civilisation. It was marvellous. They
sloughed six years' training and environment in the
time it took them to discard their gold-braided coats ;
and they stepped back into present-day, decadent
Moorish barbarity while donning the djellab, kaftan
and yellow slippers of the Faithful.

Meantime, the sylph-like Bashir accumulated
barnacles and a fine coating of briny rust in Tangier
Bay. It was decided to change her position a little.
She had to be towed from one anchorage to the other.
That rather riled Morocco proud of its new toy
and accordingly an English engineer was engaged and
sent aboard her, to put the " steam devil business'
in order. This good man is said to have wept when
he ended his first inspection of engines which had
left Italy a few months earlier in perfect order. He
probably wept further when he set to work to remedy
the evils resulting from lazy ignorance and neglect.
Work that he ordered Mohammed to put through
was shruggingly delegated to Cassim, who lit a
cigarette and bade Absalaam see to it, proceeding then
to conversation with Absalaam, who recommended
Hamadi to the task, and invited him to smoke whilst
Achmet, the head ^of my unfortunate compatriot's gang,
entertained them all with the story of his uncle's wife's
sister's marriage with a kaid from Al Ksar el Kebeer.
In this pleasing manner the days passed, whilst the
beautiful Bashir lay rotting at her anchorage, and tears
and perspiration oozed from the Christian engineer.
At length he came ashore, a saddened and ex-

184 MOROCCO

hausted man, and resigned his post ; for which piece
of honesty all credit is due to him.

The Bashir possessed a steam pinnace. It fell
from its davitts, filled and sank in eight to ten
fathoms of water. I asked a Moorish naval officer
about this. " Oh, that's all right," he told me. " We
know where it is ! " and he smiled blandly. Amazing
person ! That was just three months after the pinnace
descended to the floor of Tangier Bay.

An English naval officer from Gibraltar was in-
vited to offer himself as captain of the Bashir. He
was taken over the cruiser to inspect it. After some
trouble, and hunting in odd, out-of-the-way corners,
the key of the ammunition and powder magazine was
discovered, and a Moor, a deck hand, led the English-
man into the magazine, carrying a naked light to
show him the way withal.

The key of this place ? Oh, the paymaster had
that, and he was ashore. Of the other place? It
was with the lieutenant, who was engaged at cards
in the forecastle with the men. It appeared that the
ship had already some seven or eight commanders, of
whom the paymaster was the chief, and all of whom
would be above and beyond the Christian captain's
authority.

Presently, when it seemed that the Bashir really
was at length to be captained and officered by
Englishmen, an official reminder was issued of the
tacit understanding among the Powers to the
effect that the cruiser was not to be officered by
Europeans. At once the English withdrew.
Immediately, then, the captaincy and engineers' berths
were offered to Germans, and by them accepted.
These were the gentlemen who very hospitably

THE ROYAL NAVY OF MOROCCO 185

received me when I inspected the Moorish navy.
The attitude of the English in this little piece of
jugglery, by the way, is quite singularly typical of
the English attitude in Morocco generally as
theirs is of the German.

There was not half a pound of paint aboard the
cruiser. There was not the wherewithal to get np
sufficient steam with which to heave anchor. She had
not stores enough for a Thames ferry-boat. She had
nothing, save her beautiful, rotting hull, her beautiful,
rotting fixtures, and her beautiful, rotting engines.
Conning tower, torpedo tube (but no torpedoes),
I search-light apparatus, four 100 mm. Vavasour pivot
guns (from Newcastle), six small quick-firers, two
field-guns every intricate modern appliance this
cruiser had, and all were left to rust and decay as
Allah and the elements so willed.

The men ate, and spilled, their food on the decks,
they smoked all day long and all over the ship ;
discipline was unknown among them, and they were
entirely without sense, or hours, of duty. They
squatted about in the Sultan's satin-upholstered and
gorgeously-decorated quarters. " The Sultan has
plenty of money," they said ; " and then, no Sultan
would ever go on board a ship."

A pathetic object was the Moorish man-of-war. (I
was quite pleased to learn the other day that she had
been sold.)

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP

IT is on the cards that you have never witnessed or
taken part in the Moorish annual Feast of the
Sheep. It fell during the first months of one of my
early visits to Tangier. Let me give you my notes,
as they stand, of the impression I received of it then.

That I should have forgotten the festival aftei
being forewarned regarding it was a piece of culpabl<
negligence on my part. That I was not reminded oi
it by the prodigious number of sheep to be seen
abroad, about the streets and market-places, slung
upon donkeys, tethered under shadowy archways, and
borne upon men's shoulders Morocco is for ever
stirring one with misty hails from one's childhood's
study of pictures in the family Bible this is a circum-
stance for which I can offer no reason or excuse.

During a couple of days I had noticed a sort of
restless expectancy about the demeanour of my good
rascal, Selaam Marrakshi. Last night this uneasiness
seemed to approach a climax, and, callous Nazarene
that I was, I inquired carelessly as to its cause.

" Have you been eating too much kesk'soo,
Selaam, or smoking too much kief?"

" No, sir, I don' to smoke kief now, an' I don' to
eat kesk'soo these ten an' four days." A pregnant
pause, compact of injured innocence and reproach.
" Ghadda (to-morrow) he's Feast of Sheep, sir ! "

" God bless my soul, you don't say so ! And you

1 86

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP 187

no got sheep, and no new slippers, what ? Come
along, Selaam ; we'll go to S6k."

So, with a sigh of relief, the rascal rose from his
heels and followed me out along the moonlit beach,
and up by the stony hill road to Tangier's market-
place, where, among the tiny bazaars, Selaam was
saluted by friends innumerable, the most of whom
glanced in surprise at his distinctly maculate
slippers ; some of whom asked, railingly, if his sheep
were fat yet and ready for the pot. It seemed my
forgetfulness was known.

The bright, new, lemon-coloured, red-soled slippers
we soon acquired from an obese dignitary, in orange
and mauve satin, who was doing a thriving trade in
these commodities, at famine prices, among foolish
virgins like ourselves who had tarried over long and
left the making of these all-important purchases to the
very eve of the Feast day itself. In the matter of a
sheep we were not so easily suited. Every second
man we met seemed to have one of the bleating
creatures about his person, either on his shoulders, in
his arms, or dragging behind him on a cord. But our
quest was a man with two of them ; for such a person
might sell, while the man with but one, so it appeared,
had forfeited Paradise and given a Sultan the go-by
rather than part with his next day's mutton.

At length we happened on a certain Shareef of
our acquaintance, a minor saint, with three sheep
and a keen nose for a bargain. We took seats beside
this holy chafferer and commenced a long discussion
upon " heaven and date-stones." Long time we
gossiped over coffee and snuff before Selaam ventured,
very casually, on a question as to the value of the
meanest among the three tethered sheep.

188 MOROCCO

"That! Oh, eight dollars and a half is his price.
And so the Sultan has really called our Basha to
Marrakish. Y' Allah t'if! And how the world
wags on ! "

It was cleverly done, and the yawn with which
the remark ended was a miracle of listless, holiday
indifference. But we bought that sheep, Selaam and
I, and that for a shade less than half the amount first
mentioned by our holy friend, Shareef Achmet. And,
having bought the creature, we devoted the next hour
or so of that moonshiny night to getting our purchase
home. Awhile Selaam carried it about his neck, a
bleating boa, one pair of legs over either shoulder.
Wearying of this we returned our mutton to earth, an<
tried twisting its woolly tail as a means of encouraging
it toward our home and its place of translation.
Ultimately, and by the pale light of a now declining
moon, we crossed the hotel terrace, each holding,
wheel-barrow fashion, a hind-leg of our sheep, th<
which we thus urged onward upon its propping an<
unwilling fore-feet.

Where the sheep passed the night I cannot say.
I plead guilty to having deserted Selaam upon th<
hotel terrace, where, for aught I know, he may hav<
trundled the bleating, imbecile creature to and fro till
morning. A retiring disposition forced me withii
doors (within back-doors, to be exact) what tim<
Selaam navigated his sheep past the entrance. Amon<
mine own people I was reluctant to give prominent
to my connection with our sheep.

Next morning, as I stood talking to a Spanisl
lady, a sudden, furious bleating made me aware that
the wretched creature, anticipating the cook's knife
was endeavouring to hang itself on a palmetto con

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP 189

by which it had been tethered to a balustrade. I felt
myself positively blushing. I declined to recognise
the beast, and endeavoured to draw my companion
away when Selaam came, scurrying, to the suicide's
rescue. I effusively concurred with the Spanish lady's
comment upon the foolishness of allowing country
Moors to tether their animals about the hotels. I
could have slain Selaam when, a moment later, he
approached us, smirking, with,

"That our sheep, sir, he near to die; he goin' to
be hang, only I come quick !" And I had been
getting on so nicely with my laborious . little Spanish
gallantries.

It is a queer business, this Feast of the Sheep.
The only thing about it which is definitely known and
understood would appear to be the interesting facts
that it comes once a year, and that it is an occasion
of peace-making and over-eating. Four aged and
respected expounders of Alkoran, long in the beard
and of great piety, have assured me that the Feast
commemorates that great trial of Abraham's faith in
which Isaac came near to a most unpleasant end.
Three other mubasheers, with beards of almost equal
reverence, scout this explanation as smacking of
Jewry ; not Abraham, but a friend of Mohammed, say
these gentlemen, originated the Feast. Selaam assures
me that when he was a boy the teaching was that the
plagues of Egypt were at the bottom of the Sheep
Feast. Finally, an Arabic scholar tells me that if I
question one thousand Moorish observers of the
Feast, some five of them may be able to tell me what
it commemorates. For his part my learned friend
supports the Abraham explanation.

However, leaving these abstruse questions to the

190 MOROCCO

long-bearded, you have my word for it that it is a
great tumasha, this Feast of the Sheep ; and that, if I
know anything of my man, his over-burdened
digestive organs will insist upon a banan day
to-morrow. With my hand upon my heart I can assure
you that he has this day personally disposed of well-
nigh half a sheep, besides other small matters of
confectionery and several gallons of syrupy green
tea, with fresh mint in it, and sugar past all reckoning.
A full and pious Muslim is Selaam Marrakshi this
night ; but particularly and with emphasis is he a full
Muslim. If there be one that is fuller, in El Moghreb,
then I should be glad to meet the man, and sorry to
carry him.

But with regard to the function : At half-past six
this morning I was roused by Selaam with a round-
about request for the loan of my rifle, of his relation-
ship to which he is tremendously proud, magazine
rifles being as yet rare in the Sultan's dominions.
Subsequently, I was grateful to notice that my horse
had been given a superlatively fine grooming. That
was my innocence, Another roundabout request left
me without a horse for this morning. Selaam had
borrowed the animal, and had produced, for its further
ornamentation, a gorgeous crimson, green and gold
saddle, high-peaked before and behind, and of most
elaborate workmanship. My own saddle was un-
obtrusively cinched upon a hired screw, held near by
by a ragged prottgt of Selaam's.

Selaam's pate was new shaven, the tassel of his
new tarboosh was nearer a foot than six inches in
length, his yellow Moorish riding-boots were new-
embroidered in crimson silk, a yard and a half of dark
blue bernous trailed behind him on the breeze ; my gun

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP 191

was at his hip, his features radiated a shining dignity,
and my horse was fretted and pricked into a diagonal
progress consisting of short prancing caracoles. Oh,
it was a brave show ! My preceding it on the tame,
hired nag suggested a groom who had forgotten his
place. So, presently, I withdrew ; not to put too fine
a point upon it, I trotted meekly away by a side
street, and so mounted alone to the outer S6k, leaving
Selaam, a procession in himself, to join his fellow-
believers on the Kasbah hill, where the Basha would
presently initiate the day's proceedings.

For myself, I waited in the market-place among
Jew sweetmeat pedlars and other perspiring infidels.
You must understand that the great m'sallah, or
enclosed praying field of Tangier, stands beside the
British Legation, on the crest of the market-place hill,
well without the city walls and Bab el Fds their
principal gate. The chief mosque, on the other hand,
is within the walls, at the city's lowest extremity,
near the beach, and at the foot of the steep main
street. While I spurred my reluctant hack about
among the Sok pedlars and holiday-making Moors,
new-shaven, new-shod and new-scrubbed withal, I
perceived that, for the present, attention centred upon
the m'sallah on the hilltop. Clean and pious Believers,
themselves in white, their children garbed in material
of every hue seen in rainbows, formed a constant,
slow-moving stream from the town to the m'sallah.

Presently, with a flourish of drums and horns, a
huge banner of the Prophet's own green appeared
under the arch of Bab el Fas ; The Holy Shareef of
Wazzan, Moulai Ali, by Allah's wonder-working grace,
a lineal child of Mohammed and of an English
mother, who was married to the late Saint of Wazzan

192 MOROCCO

in the British Legation his banner. The Shareef
and his train made a gallant show ; white horses,
peaked saddles, gilt stirrups, and green and gold
trappings, fluttering. Women crooned their shrill
acclamations, men pressed forward among the
Shareef s armed runners to kiss his sacred stirrups
and others shrugged, smiled, and stared, indifferent.
Every man has his following in Morocco. Diplomatic
France has made a protege of this young Shareef,
and so Algerian soldiers from the Legation formed
part of Moulai Ali's train on this occasion.

More drum-beating, and incongruously enough
in these biblically Eastern surroundings the blare ol
a European bugle-call. The men of the Moorisl
navy, El Bashirs crew, walking, like a young ladies'
seminary out for exercise, and headed by theii
gorgeous commander-paymaster and their mon
humble other commanders.

After the navy, the chief among land-sharks for
this country-side, the Basha of Tangier and district,
on a corpulent red mule, a moving hillock of hauteur
in cream-coloured cashmere and silk. Then the
Basha's soldiery, a truculent set of ruffians, usually
as disreputable externally as they are morally corrupt,
on this occasion smart in new djellabs and snowy
kaftans. Behind them, sublimely arrogant, showing
off my horse and gun more bravely, God wot, than I
could ever hope to exhibit them, Selaam Marrakshi,
as gallant a scamp as any to be seen that day. Next,
the Church dignitaries, afoot and on mules, downward
gazing and proudly meek. Then a miscellaneous
rabble, armed to the teeth, and clothed more gloriously
than either Solomon or the lilies.

An hour was passed in prayer within the flaky

THE FEAST OF THE SHEEP 193

white walls of el m'sallah. And then a gun was fired.
That told us who were infidels that the knife had
entered the throat of the sacred sheep. A hurried
scramble then, while the bleeding beast was hustled
into a huge palmetto basket, and then the race for
the great mosque at the far lower end of the city.
Rushing slaves bore the basket, and a shouting
multitude urged them on, with great sticks and
strange, pious oaths. Should the sheep show a sign
of life when the mosque was reached, all was well and
a prosperous year before Morocco. Should the priest
down there by the sea find the creature quite dead
all was ill, and Believers in El Moghreb must prepare
for an evil, hungry year.

We waited, silent, there in the market-place.

Boom ! Boom ! Boom ! The port guns told the
news. The sheep had reached the mosque alive,
expiring at the threshold, no doubt. All was well.
Every Believer took his neighbour's hand, conveying
then his own fingers to his lips in salutation. All
quarrels between Believers were at an end. Peace
and goodwill reigned supreme, with a keen appetite
for mutton and kesk'soo. Vendettas ended in that
moment for the day at all events. The procession
trailed back from the m'sallah, amid crooning
acclamations and drum-beatings, and every man set
off homeward to kill and cook his sheep.

In the afternoon the very air was heavy with
repletion. Women fried and men sighed. Repletion
uled.

It was a brave day, this of the Feast of the Sheep
n Tangier.

N

THE OPEN ROAD '

TO me, the unending marvel of Tangier is that
it is ; and that; being what it is, the place
should be where it is.

Here it basks in year-long sunshine on the
shoulder of Africa, under the chin of Europe, a frag-
ment of the savage, old, beautiful world in whicl
Joseph's brothers looked enviously upon his many-
coloured coat and schemed (one sees them squatting
in a straggling, nudging group, over the mid-day
meal in the baked, dry bed of a stream, where bul-
rushes rustle to tell one of what was, and lemon-
coloured locusts dispute passage betwixt sand-crusted
flat stones with rainbow-hued lizards and industrious,
scavenging beetles) to make away with him. It is a
drowsily living sheet from out the oldest, most
gorgeously-illustrated family Bible that ever eager
English children pored over upon a fresh Northern
Sabbath afternoon. A Missionary Society's chromo-
lithographs could hardly outrage Tangier. For the
atmosphere of fair, twinkling feet, Circassian beauties,
the savour of the Harun er-Rasheed legend you
must fare farther. But for the earth in its lusty,
pastoral youth, not as science shows it you, but as
you learned of it at your mother's knee milk and
honey, slow-moving sheep herds, eternal sunshine,
crude, vivid colouring and miracles here you have it

1 In the spring of the year 1900.
194

FOOD

PRAYER

THE OPEN ROAD 195

preserved to your hand, five days from Liverpool
Street and almost within reach of electric search-
lights on modern British fortifications.

That is the standing marvel of Tangier. And you
should look upon it while you may. For just so soon
as the dessicated and worm-eaten monarchy here
crumbles and disappears at the touch of European
occupation, like wood-ash before a gust of wind, just
then and no later will the last easily-available link
between Genesis and the world of halfpenny daily
papers melt into the sunbeams and disappear.
Meantime, it is here, on the shoulder of Africa, blink-
ing across a few miles of laughing, pearl-fretted
turquoise water at Europe and its buzz of civilisation.

But that is only Tangier. Would you glimpse
the inwardness of things Moorish ? (There's time
and to spare for you to grow grey in the pursuit if
your quest be insight and not merely a glimpse.)
Would you taste the essence of Moorish life, sniff its
real atmosphere, catch the sense of it ? Then the
word for you is " Boot and saddle," or, " Slipper and
burda," as you choose you must take to the Open
Road; and open in all conscience you will find it as the
windy Atlantic or the sun-paralysed Sahara. And
you must do this, you must travel, not particularly for
the sake of reaching this place or the other. That is
a small matter. Your lesson and the knowledge you
shall gain lies in the going, the journeying, the Road
itself and its happenings ; that Open Road to the
stirring song of which, as Stevenson said, "our
nomadic forefathers journeyed all their days." For
thus and not otherwise you shall sense the true
meaning of things Moorish. Allans !

It did seem that you might have lighted your

196 MOROCCO

cigarette at the fire my words struck from Selaam's
eyes yesterday when I told him to have all ready for
a week's journeying this morning. If before he had
been a man of affairs, then he was a field-marshal
with a new-drafted plan of campaign in his pocket.
The stage-manager and the gipsy contend in
Selaam Marrakshi for the mastery of his nature.
My personal attitude toward the open road is a thing
long since understanded by this Moor, and accord-
ingly our modest caravan had scarcely drawn a glance
or a thought from you had you met us, in the cool,
amethyst-roofed first sunshine of this morning, when
we jogged out from the hotel terrace and along the
beach toward Shwaanee and the Tetuan Road.

There was first my Lord Selaam, squatting lady's
fashion and comfortably among a few odds and ends
of impedimenta, on the flat Moorish burda of a red
mule, which carried its hammer-head as do the china
mandarins that bob at one from nursery mantel-
shelves. Partly led, partly driven, and continuously
sworn at in an even, genial tone by Selaam was our
pack-mule, a rusty, dingy, flea-bitten grey, qualified, I
believe, to walk safely a tight-rope, laden as he was
this morning with a bulging shwarri (a great double
pannier of palmetto) containing a fold-up cot, rugs,
food and the few other small matters which, from my
point of view, form all that is necessary in the way of
baggage when one takes to the road. For main
body, rear-guard and camp-followers our caravan
had myself between the peaks of an Algerian saddle
astride a quick-walking black horse we call Zemouri ;
a gallant beast of a disposition that is invincibly
buoyant and a mouth which is harder than the nether
mill-stone.

THE OPEN ROAD 197

And that was all.

If you have your own European saddle in
Morocco and you are attached to it (I take it every
decent Christian is fond of his own saddle), do not
take it with you in the country. The life of the road
in Morocco is not good for cherished pig-skin. But,
on the other hand, I beseech you allow no malicious
wight to beguile you into riding a Moorish saddle.
Better, far better, to put away dignity and perch
yourself sideways on a mule's pack ; no bad plan at
all, this, if comfort be your aim. The Moorish saddle
is a picturesque snare, an invention of some Moorish
djinn for the subjugation and torture of rash
Nazarenes, whose knees it paralyses with a long-drawn
agony of aching, the which, without experience, may
be conceived of adequately only by martyrs to
neuralgia. The high-peaked Algerian saddle, how-
ever, particularly when you fold a blanket over the
grip, provides an easy, restful seat for journeying.

Should you, being an orthodox and proper person,
seek advice in the orthodox and proper quarters
before setting out upon the Open Road in Morocco,
you will be bidden take a Basha's soldier with you
for guard. And this is very sound and excellent
counsel. For should you, peradventure, be murdered
and robbed by the wayside, and if a Basha's soldier is of
your party, then shall your heirs and assignees obtain
fat indemnity through their honourable Legation
from the Moorish Government ; which Government
will quite cheerfully lay waste an odd village or two,
and even torture and imprison the inhabitants, to
obtain the wherewithal to recompense your weeping
heirs for your demise. Should their claim be ten
thousand dollars, the screw will be applied to the tune

198 MOROCCO

of twenty thousand dollars ; fifteen thousand for
the local squeezers, five thousand for your bereaved
assignees. On the other hand, should you, ignoring
the counsels of the orthodox, journey without one of
the parasitical brigands called Basha's soldiers, then,
in the case of such an accident as the one mentioned,
your heirs will have, perforce, to pay the mourning
tailor and dressmaker from out their own pockets,
instead of with pence ground out from a starving,
persecuted peasantry who never heard of either you,
your heirs, or orders for mourning wear. Therefore
you will see at once the propriety of being guided by
orthodox counsels. You will see it at once, and if
you act upon it, good-bye to your chances of hearing
the music of the true vagabond Song <3f the Open
Road.

Again, your respected friend who knows will tell
you that you require at least one or two European
companions, two or three tents, half-a-dozen animals,
a cook, three other men, and it may be, if your
friend is very wise and proper a four-post bedstead
or so. Very excellent things in their way these,
without a doubt. Therefore, you will see at once the
propriety of acting upon your friend's advice. And
when you act upon it you will doubtless* travel with
comfort and perfect safety. You will never reach the
Open Road, however. And, for comfort in travelling,
a Pullman on the London and North-Western is
hard to beat, you know.

For my Lord Selaam and me, we were bound for
the Open Road this morning, hence the unobtrusive,
unceremonious nature of our outsetting. And hence
it was, perchance, that the sunny morning air had
a song of its own for my ears as it swished past

THE OPEN ROAD 199

them we rode up the breeze and that, as we
crossed lush Shwaanee, and began to mount the hills,
I found myself humming a tripping, foolish tune,
belonging (for me) to boyish, seafaring days. Hence,
too, it may have been that Selaam was crooning a
Sheshawan love-song in the recesses of his grey
sugar-loaf djellab-hood, and that Zemouri, my
mettlesome Rozinante, pretended to see mares in
palmetto bushes, whinnied absurdly to the non-
existent fair, and endeavoured to persuade me that a
.crab-like, three-legged, rocking-horse movement was
the best gait possible for a journey.

Herd-boys on the wayside tootled at us upon reed
pipes ; mooning cattle lowed at us ; almost naked
village children tumbled one over another in a race
toward our path, there to stare and laugh at us;
heaven, smiling, poured down morning-time, spring-
of-the-year sunshine upon us ; the earth, full-fed by
the recently-ended spring rains (the last it was to
taste for six or eight months), was calling, calling to
us, strongly and sweetly, with a call that might not
be denied. It seemed that all El Moghreb and the
hosts of heaven knew us for vagabonds bound out-
ward, and bade us God-speed ; presented us with the
freedom of^the Open Road.

So Selaam sang crooning love-songs in his djellab-
hood, to his own running accompaniment of pleasant
oaths addressed to *he mules. " Get along, then,
spawn of many pigs ! On then, children of vermin-
eating Sok rats ! " And, speaking of djellab-hoods,
permit me to offer you a piece of counsel which is not
orthodox, yet, natheless, possibly worth the following.
Should you ever go a-journeying in Morocco, furnish
yourself beforehand with a djellab, with one of the

200 MOROCCO

short, hooded outer garments which all Moors wear.
Three or four dollars will purchase one, and its worth
you shall find to exceed that of many dollars. It
serves to make your Christian garb less conspicuous,
to mention one of its lesser virtues, and one which at
certain times and places is more than a lesser virtue.
In rain it is a very fair protection to a horseman.
The really rain-proof garment for riding in has yet
to be invented. In strong winds (the Levanta is not
a kindly or a gentle breeze) the djellab will save you
many a headache, and preserve you, as well as any
thing can, from the inflictions of dust and sand. The
great virtue of the garment, however, putting aside its
minor uses as rug, carpet, pillow and the like, lies in
its admirable qualities as a shelter from too-powerful
sunshine. In this respect the difference made at the
end of a long day's ride by the possession or non-
possession of a djellab is something difficult to ex-
aggerate. It is as much to be commended, for use
upon the road, as the Moorish saddle is to be depre-
cated and shunned.

Mention again (the atmosphere of this Biblical
land makes for scriptural tautology) of the road
in Morocco brings me to one of its most striking
eccentricities : There are no roads in Morocco, not
one, in the sense in which a European rider or
driver speaks of a road. But then you see there are
no vehicles, not one, except an old Georgian state
coach or two in the royal cities presents from
European courts, moored and derelict since their
arrival here, and used indifferently as cupboards or
as stationary playthings for the ladies of the harem.
A road in Morocco is a series of more or less parallel
hoofs-marks beaten out of the earth by generations

THE OPEN ROAD 201

of horses, mules, camels, donkeys, goats, cattle and

foot-passengers, varying in width from a hundred

yards to three feet, skirting gorges, dodging boulders,

circumventing mountains, and leading one, by fell and

flood, in Allah's good time, to the habitations of men.

Navigation upon these tracks is one of the many and

varied interests of travel in Morocco, and one calling

for the exercise, at times, of the best a man has of

skill, decision, care and resource. This and other

calls I have this day responded to, to the best of

my ability, during twelve full, good hours such full

hours as one seldom lives in these days among towns

and men. I find that I have quite omitted in this

place all description of our day's journey. No matter.

That is part and parcel of journeying in Morocco. I

find I have this evening an urgent need, a deliciously

urgent need, of tobacco and a recumbent position.

That, too, like my wolfish appetite, pertains to Moorish

travel. I regret, however, that I should not even have

mentioned our destination Selaam's and mine's. But

that omission is also part and parcel of the vagabond

life of the Open Road.

We are going, by Allah's grace, robbers, weather,
rivers, animals, and (when we approach it) Spanish
officialdom permitting, to Ceuta. We have the peace
of Europe sincerely at heart, Selaam and myself.
Ceuta is Gibraltar's African vis-d-vis. Of late rumour
and Russia have made Ceuta a name familiar to all
men who, like Selaam and myself, are concerned with
the concert of the Powers, the progress of humanity,
and its lever Anglo-Saxon supremacy. Therefore,
if the Open Road will lead us there, we are going to
inspect Ceuta.

202 MOROCCO

Find a man who is going through an entirely
healthy and wholesome phase of his life, his surround-
ings and mode* of living in accord with Nature, and
you will have found one to whom the morning time
contains the cream and prime of each day's existence.
Turn to the man who is living in a highly artificial
manner, pressed upon by the complex difficulties of all
that in civilisation which estranges its children from
Nature, and you will see one to whom morning is a
grey and chilly season, a period of something like
despondency, to be lived through and endured as
stoically as may be, in order that the stimulation of
evening (night is day's prime to such a man) may b<
attained.

I have noticed, when journeying in Moroccc
that the mornings, the out-setting of each day,
are unfailingly delightful and full of clean, strong
exhilaration.

This morning, when I opened my eyes they wer<
stimulated to full wakefulness by the picture the]
showed me of a tiny patch of sky (such skies as day-
break brings over Morocco!), of a hue for which
artistry has no name and painting no simulacrum,
enframed by an unglazed little Moorish arched window
high up toward the beamed roof of the vault-like room
in which my cot swung. This little room, a store
place for coffee, tobacco in the leaf, saddles, shwarries,
and a hundred and one ancient oddments, Selaam's
stage-management had placed at my disposal in the
great fandak, or walled-in corral a landmark to
travellers in North Morocco which lies among the
mountains south of Tetuan, and distant one day's
journey from Tangier. Falling from their sky-gazing
feast, mine eyes encountered the huddled figure of

THE OPEN ROAD 203

Selaam, hooded and sheeted in his grey djellab, asleep
on the matted floor at my feet.

I rose quietly (the Moor's care of our animals had
disturbed his night's rest a good deal, for beasts that
work and do not eat all day must be tended well at
night if their condition is to be maintained) and
stepped on through a flaky white arch to the cloister
without ; for the queer, shadowy, covered way which
skirted the fandak did form cloisters of a sort. There
I picked my way gingerly among Moors sleeping in
every variety of recumbent pose, their mules and
donkeys tethered between them, packs and bundles
all about them. You must remember that every kind
of commodity, everything which has to be conveyed
from one place to another in Morocco, is carried,
perforce, on the back of some beast, or upon the
shoulders of some woman.

Once clear of the cloisters, I was upon the cobbles
of the open fandak, with only the sky above my head.
Language fails me when I would tell you of that sky,
of the incomparable calm of the strange light it used
to veil from our eyes, the mysterious beginning of
day's birth. Something there was in the air that sang
gladly, slowly, in my ears, and something else that
made piteous complaint. It seemed the soul of the
coming day made music to hide Night's pains of
labour ; an epitome of all Nature's workings ; the
Earth's gladness ever uppermost yet never really
hiding its own tragedy the infinite pathos of life.
And over all, that mysterious violet haze that baffled
scrutiny as effectively as it baffles description, that
says to a man, " Thus far, mortal, and no farther;
and and that is better so, for you ! "

While I looked and let the cool cleanness of it all

204 MOROCCO

filter into me (a man's soul needs washing at times,
God wot, and these be the seasons and places for the
ablution), the violet haze floated down after night in
the west, and the hollow of heaven became mystically
filled with essential daylight. I had time to marvel
at this, out there on the fandak cobbles among
reflective sheep and a few mildly melancholy oxen ;
I had time to wonder without understanding, and
then, by silent, unmarked degrees, night's death was
put away from my mind, the round breast-work of
hills about me began to whisper, gently, but with a
million voices, and in tones of growing volume, of
young Day, his accession. The air, roused by thei
voices, took on a quite new life, became articulate,
and spoke. The eastern half of the sky awoke to th<
daily glory of its mission. A young ewe bleatec
beside me like a child. A spear of living gold fin
shot through the horizon. The hills' whispering
became a psalm of acclamation, true and gladly stronj
as a starling's note. Earth's bosom rose on a long-
drawn breath ; the sun, intolerably splendid, stoo<
forth among his heralds ; day had come, smilinj
royally upon barbarous Morocco.

I turned to the cloisters again, the cleaner for on<
kind of a bath, I think, and bade drowsy Selaai
bring water and soap.

Three minutes later the whole great enclosun
was, by comparison, full of life and movement.
Yet not of activity as we of the North lands understan<
that word. Your true Muslim never bustles ; a Mooi
never hurries and does not often move quickly. Th<
distinction is not one without a difference. In all
directions men were crouched over stakes and heel-
ropes, girths were being tightened (a mule's pack-

THE OPEN ROAD 205

saddle is never taken from its back during a journey :
often the beast carries it for months at a stretch),
shwarries adjusted, and animals were being grouped
into caravans. Some few, sybarites, were making
coffee in tins over charcoal braziers ; others munched
indifferently at leathery, brown loaves while moving
hither and thither among their beasts. Before my
toilet was completed the great ramshackle enclosure
was deserted ; camels, horses, mules, men and
i donkeys, all had trailed out at the crumbling, weather-
scarred white entrance, and made their that day's
! start upon the Open Road.

We drank our cafe au lait (Selaam has his own

! mysterious methods of producing such rare luxuries

i as fresh milk in the country. I should expect it of

i him in the Sahara) and ate our bread and butter, the

Moor and I, in absolute solitude ; our tiny caravan

assembled there in a corral that had held hundreds

: easily. Then I looked to my gun, we buckled on our

harness, mounted and sallied out from the empty place

of sleep into the glorious outer sunshine of the seventh

hour after midnight.

From the point of view, let us say, of a London
hotel manager, there was not much to be said for the
accommodation afforded by that fandak ; yet I doubt if
any man stepped out of a London hotel this morning
with just the strongly pulsing sense of satisfaction, of
physical and moral well-being, that gave savour to
our first cigarettes, Selaam's and mine's, as we filed
out from our rest-house upon the mountain-side near
Tetuan.

For half an hour our beasts climbed, we with
them, and then began a steady two hours' long descent
toward Tetuan, a grandly rugged, sun-bathed panorama

206 MOROCCO

spread before us for our entertainment during those
odd moments that could be spared for sight-seeing
from a road in which flat boulders were oases and
rare. I watched my black Zemouri more than once
on that rugged mountain-side, holding one fore-foot
deliberately in mid-air, his eyes scanning the track in
vain for four square inches of level foot-hold. Not
only was it no road at all, from the European point of
view, but it was what an Irish hunting man would
consider quite extraordinarily rough cross-country
going. And this was a special thing, a rarity among
Moroccan highways a made road.

"That he's old road before, sir," explaine<
Selaam as our animals stumbled among spiky rock*
on the extreme edge of a crevasse. He pointed
the gorge to where I could make out a ragged-edge<
ribbon of scattered boulders among the palmetto an<
scrub. Nature, by means of winter torrents, ha<
stripped that ribbon of vegetation and of all debris
lighter than rocks. Travellers, following in the
torrent's wake, had called their way a road. " This
new road, sir," continued the Moor ; " he make it
when Sultan he come here. All the womens every-
body ; Sheshawan mountain peepils, too, he make it ;
everybody he work here to make road when Sultan
he go to Tanjah. You know what for he do that, sir ?
Why he make road, and let Sultan to pass don' to
fight him ? "

" No, how was it, Selaam ? "

" Sultan peepil he tell all country peepils, Sultan
he's goin' Tanjah to fight K'istians ! " (Christians ;
Europeans). "That wha' for, sir. If he don' to say
that, never he go pas' Sheshawan ; peepils he don'
let him to pass ; never, sir ! "

A FOUNTAIN NEAR "THAT FAR OFF COURT" AT MARKAKISH

THE OPEN ROAD 207

That is as it may be. The Sultan's folk may
lave cozened the country people, may have obtained
volunteer labour under false pretences. The thing is
more than likely, I apprehend. But that their diplo-
macy actually caused a road to be made across those
mountains I would deny with my last breath. So, I
am assured, would Zemouri and the mules. For the
Moors, in this as in most other matters in the present
period of their decay, are served and contented by
the rudest kind of makeshift. Anything that an
animal may be spurred over and does not sink in past
his girth, that is a Moor's notion of a road. When
some unfortunate beast is bogged past his girth, after
rain, then its rider dismounts, unpacks, and with stick
and voice forces his animal on, or, if the case is too
sorry a one, leaves it there. I have seen that done
more than once. And of such a place Selaam would
admit that "That road, sir, 'he's little bad, not much
water he come there ; mud he's strong, too much
no ? " And I would nod, and Selaam would skirt the
evil spot and, acting upon some instinct Allah has
given him, discover in a dttour some less deadly
track. But those things are features of winter travel
in El Moghreb. Between April and November rocks
and heat and hard-baked mud-holes are one's worst
enemies ; mud in the quagmire stage is rare.

It was past nine, and the lusty morning sunshine
was peeling my nose, despite my djellab-hood's shelter,
when we won to the fertile Tetuan valley and left
those ironbound hills of the Sultan's "road" behind
us. White-walled Tetuan lay within easy view of us
now, most picturesquely situate upon an out-jutting
spur among the foot-hills of a green, smoothly-outlined
mountain range, and looking across a lush and

208 MOROCCO

meadowy valley to the scarred grey face of the wild
mountains behind and among which lie Sheshawan
and er-Riff; the impregnable stronghold of barbarous
clans of hardy mountain bandits and pirates who
fight cheerfully among themselves, pour passer le temps
and to keep their hands in, whilst entirely and success-
fully defying all authorities from the Sultan downward,
and challenging the venturesome Christian traveller
to visit their confines if he dare, and if he be tired of
life. Grand, snow-capped, rugged heights these, more
inaccessible than Thibet to the Nazarene and occupy-
ing a position in relation to civilisation which is pro-
bably without a parallel in this hemisphere.

One feature this town of Tetuan possesses is
common with many another Moorish city to which
I have journeyed. One approaches it from the
mountains at the end, it may be, of a long, hot day's
ride. One turns a bend in a winding track, an<
suddenly there is Tetuan in full view, gleaming whit<
and close at hand. One sighs and slackens one'
grip of the saddle, full of that weariness which is
well worth attaining the weariness that lends rare an<
delicious zest to one's rest and refreshment, tbu
weariness which makes real refreshment, such as
never tasted in highly-civilised surroundings, possibl<
a thing to be enjoyed and remembered. One feels foi
a cigarette, and then " But no, we shall be there in
quarter of an hour. I will wait."

A full two hours later one draws rein outside th<
fandak in Tetuan.

Travel in Morocco teaches many lessons, and,
among them, none more thoroughly and well than that
of the virtue of enduring patience. Its method of
education is Nature's finely inexorable method.

THE OPEN ROAD 209

Thus : The touch of fire burns ; observe and act
accordingly ; here is no shirking, excuse, or possible
extenuation ; it burns, first and last and always ; learn
this lesson, or be, neither whipped, wept over, excused
or rebuked, but just burned.

Tetuan city was no more than a wayside station of
our day's journey, and our little caravan clattered
noisily through its arched cobbled streets with never a
pause, save one of a few moments in the market-place,
while Selaam purchased and heaped before him a few
bundles of fresh grass for the animals. On the town's
far side, and just as we emerged among the saints'
graves from its northern gate, a file of women passed
us, bowed down under great burdens of market pro-
duce. One carried an earthern jar of milk, and her
Selaam accosted, but (as became a good Muslim)
without looking at her face.

" Oh, woman," said he, scanning space, " thou hast
milk there?"

" Ihyeh ! " The woman eyed her sand-encrusted
Itoes.

" And the price thereof? "

" Three bilion."

" Here be two ; give me the milk, woman."

" O man, but my jar and I a poor woman."

"See! Here is another penny for thy jar!
nve ! "

" H'm ! It would seem to be God's will, O man.
ake!"

So we rode on with our jar of milk, and presently,
inder the shadowy lee of a high bamboo hedge, we
lismounted, loosed girths, placed grass before the
inimals, and sat down to devour vast quantities of
>read, fruit, cold chicken and meat. Ten-thirty seems
o

210 MOROCCO

a suitable enough hour for tiffin after four hours in the
saddle.

Three hours later, after traversing a scrub-covered
plain and a flower-carpeted range of hills, we emerged
in brilliant searching sunshine upon the powdery white
beach of the Mediterranean, thirty-two hours after
leaving Tangier's Atlantic bay. Till close upon sun-
down we plodded along beside the sea. A Mediter-
ranean beach makes heavy going by reason that, the
sea being very nearly tideless, the sand is always dry
and powdery, covering a horse's leg half way to the
knee at every step. Yet there is a slight rise and fall
of tide in this part of the Mediterranean, as we were
presently to prove to ourselves, Selaam and myself.

The sun was dipping low for evening, a lurid,
theatrical sunset, when we reached the mouth of a j
river, no more than forty or fifty feet broad. A
swirling, quarrelling treacherous-seeming stream it
was, here still and darkling, there rushing like a mill-
race ; an inconsequent and uncertain little river with
apparently no definite aim or purpose in life. On its
brink before us stood two fishermen with three
donkeys. In the stream's middle a third man was
swimming with that plunging violence which
bespeaks panic. He was safe enough, however, for
though driven over the bar into the sea, he landed,
with no great difficulty, a dozen paces below us. Not
so the unfortunate donkey belonging to this rash
wight. The master, finding the current too strong for
him, had turned back, lending nothing more than the
assistance of his voice, in fervid blasphemy, to the
animal. Now that donkey was a mere brown fleck
upon the opaque evening sea. I cannot understand
why the poor beast's seaward progress should have

THE OPEN ROAD 211

been so swift, but it seemed to me that a few minutes
sufficed to carry it beyond our range of vision in the
rapidly-diminishing half-light of that sunset.

And now the owner of the lost donkey approached
us, dripping and scant of breath, and began to make
his moan to heaven and to us. His plaint was a
grotesque piece of bathos.

" Oh, my donkey," he wailed, apostrophising the
distant speck; "would that I were in thy place,
another in mine, for, O, a donkey without a master is
worth at least six dollars; but; I, Cassim, without my
donkey, what smallest penny am I worth ? Oh, my
donkey, my donkey ; why would you leave our El
Moghreb ? What infidel land do you seek now ? Yd
wail! ! Ya waili ! "

So there we were stranded, Selaam, the fishermen,
the animals and myself, with never a loaf of bread
between us, eight or ten miles distant from Ceuta, a
town, by the way, the gates of which are not opened
to prince or pauper once they have been closed at an
early stage of evening. The fishermen thought the
river might be fordable soon after midnight. They
were not sure. Allah was very great. Meantime
our position was very typical, very characteristic, of
the happenings which come to beguile the way for who
chooses to take to the Open Road in Morocco.

Twenty-four hours ago we were brought to a
standstill, Selaam, myself and our little caravan,
by the unfordable condition of the river which has
to be crossed by those who would approach Spanish
Ceuta from Moorish Tetuan. It seems to me more
like twenty-four days, but let me tell you how we
fared.

212 MOROCCO

I think I have stated before that, having relied on
passing last night in Ceuta, we recklessly ate our fill
by the wayside in the morning, and even fed two
urchins and three pariah dogs, leaving ourselves with
nothing, save, as accident ruled it, three square inches
of bread, a handful of dates, and a tin of Danish
butter ; excellent items in their way, yet scarcely
calculated, of themselves, to provide with an adequate
evening meal two mules, a horse, an able-bodied
Moor, and a hungry Nazarene. No, it was inade-
quate ; and, to tell the plain truth, I was conscious,
while turning away from that annoying little river's
edge, of a sensation of hungry regret in connectioi
with the odd loaf and section of a chicken which w<
had, with such a finely careless generosity dividec
among chubby infants and lean pariahs that morning.
Hunger is so intimate and personal a matter. An<
you are to remember that we had passed seven con-
secutive hours in the saddle since that bread an<
chicken episode.

The question of where we should spend the night
appealed to me less urgently. The evening air was
pleasant enough, and the sky a sufficiently good roof
in such weather. And, while I was assuring myself
of this, rain began to fall, warmly, gently, and with an
even quietness which suggested great reserves of
watery wealth and beneficence. A most fortunate and
little-expected boon to Moorish agriculturists without
a doubt; but "Selaam," I said severely, drawing
my bridle hand under the djellab-sleeve's shelter;
" you must find a house. You savvy any village here
'urn?"

"No, sir; I think he don' got any village here.
Come on, sir ; I find something."

THE OPEN ROAD 213

So we moved on in the moist darkness, ourselves
and the animals, the two fishermen with their animals,
and the other fisherman with his grotesque exclama-
tions and waitings regarding his drowned and departed
donkey. Why this bereaved, mild maniac and his
silent friends attached themselves to us I cannot say.
They, like ourselves possessed no food nor shelter ;
so far we were akin.

It appeared to me that we scaled several mountains
and traversed many very rocky gorges, but Selaam
solemnly assures me that our way was " not far too
much, sir ! " and I am bound to accept, even though
I cannot entirely comprehend, his assurance. At all
events, we ultimately stumbled upon two mud and
wattle huts, each about the size of a four-post bed-
stead, the pair standing under the lee of a very
thoroughly ruined tower ; a relic of Spanish occupa-
tion here, but a relic in too advanced a state of decay
to admit of its affording shelter for a crow. Upon
investigation, we found that one of these huts held a
charcoal-burner and two of his friends all Moors, of
course. The other hut gave shelter to the charcoal-
burner's wife and two children. And we were five,
including our fishermen followers. To me the
prospect of shelter seemed dubious.

I am bound to say, however, that when Selaam
had explained the situation, the charcoal-burner and
his friends turned out of their hut, and squatted on
the damp earth outside, whilst waving me in to their
hovel as though that were the barest and most matter-
of-course kind of courtesy. The host said, " Marhabba
bi-kum ! " (Welcome to thee), with something of an
air, and some clean boards, the bottom boards of a
boat they were, were laid on the earth within this tiny

214 MOROCCO

hut for me to sit on. The eaves of the hut, by the
way, ran down to within two and a half feet of the
ground, and the doorway was, say, two feet wide and
three high. At one end the hut, from ridge-pole to
within two feet of earth, was open ; a fact for which I
was subsequently made most thankful. I mention
these things here because the place was quite typical of
the houses of the poorer country Moors.

I gave my horse two of our odd dozen of Tafilet
dates and announced that anyone who could beg,
borrow or steal me some barley should be rewarded.
Our host smiled and shrugged at the idea of there
being any person in his locality rich enough to b<
possessed of barley or of horses to eat it. Neverthe-
less, when I displayed a little silver, two men girde<
up their loins, took clubs, and set off in the darkness
to hunt for horse-feed.

In various other respects a mule is better suite<
than a horse to the exigencies of the road in Morocco,
but particularly is this so in the matter of feeding.
A mule will eat anything that its teeth can penetrate,
and many things which they cannot. I have never
met the horse, on the other hand, that was not by
way of being an epicure, and an epicure, too, that
would liefer starve than eat food unsuited to its
palate. Irregularity in feeding would appear to
affect mules but very slightly. Let your barb go
dinnerless for one night, however, and on the next
day your spurs, if you have the heart to use them,
shall appeal to him in vain for anything more than
the most languid and spiritless sort of gait. The
mule, on the other hand, conspicuously devoid as he
invariably is of gallantry or dash, has the stubborn,
passive virtues of his temperament, and, if he cannot

THE OPEN ROAD 215

rise to an emergency, rarely falls short of his normal
attainments till he lays him down for the last time.

I was unable to swing my cot in the charcoal-
burner's hut, for, had I done so, the little place had
been entirely filled. So when our animals were as
well disposed as might be under the ruined tower's
lee, I squatted down on my boards, with a rug, in the
hut, and bade Selaam bring in the host and his
friends. A soaking rain was falling outside, and I
could not well permit these poor fellows to expose
themselves to it while there was a spare inch in the
hut. They crawled in with two of the fishermen
and squatted solemnly in the hut, sharing between
them one long kief-pipe and two fiat black loaves
of bran bread.

Presently the two seekers after barley and its
reward returned, sodden but triumphant, with a small
measure of barley, beans and corn. They were duly
rewarded, and our animals received the treasurable
find, Zemouri, the horse, as I need hardly say, being
given the cream of it. Then the sodden ones
crawled into the hut and steamed there, telling, at
great length, their adventures during the two hours
they had devoted to foraging on my behalf. Selaam
and myself, we munched at our fragment of bread
and ate our handful of dates, save two, which I put
aside for Zemouri's delectation next morning.

Heralded by the furious yelping of two gaunt curs
outside the hut, there presently came to us yet
another visitor, a little, black-avised fellow, hairy
as Esau, with roving eyes, and an old Spanish
musket. By a miracle, the newcomer found a few
inches of space into which he was able to insinuate
his person. I made inquiry, and was informed that

216 MOROCCO

the newcomer was a robber by profession, and that
he sought shelter now from one of his nightly prowls,
by reason of the dirty weather. I mechanically
loosened the revolver holster on my belt as this
piece of information reached me ; and Selaam, notic-
ing the gesture, shook his head reassuringly.

" No, no, sir ; he all right ; he very good man, sir.
Suppose he find you outside, yes!" Selaam drew
one brown forefinger suggestively across his throat.
11 But here never, sir! The man who belong this
house, he friend for that robber. Never he rob you
here only if you sleep too much."

This was certainly satisfactory, so far as it went. I
saw no great likelihood of our dropping off to sleep in
a hut that had been small for three, and that now held
ten. I did doze, however, more than once during
the small hours, the point of that honourable robber's
long dagger-sheath touching the leg of one of my
riding-boots, my shoulders wedged in the great
Algerian saddle. But each time my eyes opened I
saw Selaam smoking, quietly watchful, my rifle across
his knees.

Such a lurid little interior it was, with its wall of
windy, rain-swept sky at one end, its curious store of
flotsam from forgotten Mediterranean wrecks a hatch-
cover, boat's bottom-boards, and an old, worm-eaten
stern-sheet board, bearing in half-obliterated green
letters the word " Dolores " ; these things and its
curious human occupants, hard, gaunt, hungry, weather-
stained, and only half-human it seemed, having no
need, apparently, of sleep, expecting no more in life
than a little rude shelter and a little scurvy black bread
each day ; robbing whom they might, killing when
they must, working fitfully as men may have worked

THE OPEN ROAD 217

in the Stone Age, risking life and limbs each day for a
few pence, themselves being robbed, beaten and
imprisoned at intervals, when information reached
some hungry local authorities of a haul having been
made on this rocky shore, some would-be smugglers
having been successfully robbed, or killed and robbed.
An odd lodging for the night, this of mine below
Ceuta.

We did not ford that obstinate little river at its
mouth after all, though grey daybreak found us
waiting on its brink ; Zemouri munching good-
humouredly, and pretending that my two dates re-
quired ten minutes of pleasant mastication. One of
the fishermen came near to losing his life in testing the
ford for us, and subsequently, with his fellows, guided
us, by a long detour, over swampy, scrub-covered
marshes, to an inland ford which we crossed with dry
saddle-flaps. During the most part of the time Ceuta
was well within view, high and dry on the far-out
jutting horn of the great bay we were skirting.

Toward noon we reached a ramshackle Moorish
guard-house, on the confines of the neutral strip
between Spanish Ceuta and Moorish territory. The
neutral strip itself is the stony, trickling bed of a
stream, which has, apparently, seen better days. It
was once a river ; but now, having forgotten its
original mission in life, it is a wide, indefinitely
rambling ditch. Upon its far side we were called to
a halt by a knot of funny little toy soldiers in blue
Zouave trousers and string sandals. A few carried
rifles, two wore coats, all were smoking cigarettes,
and they came trotting after our little caravan because,
it seemed, their keen watchfulness had detected my
rifle where it swung across SelaanVs broad shoulders.

218 MOROCCO

I gathered tKat these excitable little men were convinced
that we had endeavoured to elude their vigilance in
the matter of this rifle. Now, with stern dignity,
with military peremptoriness, they demanded that the
gun be handed over to their keeping. I take some
pride in being a law-abiding person, but I plead guilty
to having shown some resentment when these little
men awkwardly jerked my Lee-Metford from its case,
pronounced it a Mauser, and managed between them
to jam its breech while endeavouring to unload it. I
begged a receipt of some sort, a voucher by which I
might reclaim my property. This involved a long
and exciting debate, during the progress of which
crowd gathered. Again and again different aspect
of my sufficiently moderate request were submitted t<
the eager crowd, collectively and individually, by th<
voluble little military gentlemen in sandals. I foun<
these Spaniards vastly more difficult to deal with th;
the Moors. But, at long last, it seemed my affair was
favourably settled. An old, old veteran in dungaree!
hobbled up from his seat beside a wash-tub, tore a
tiny fragment of paper from the edge of some journal,
pencilled laboriously upon it the legend : " No. 97 "
(I have often wondered what chance may have
directed his choice of this number), and handed it to
the chief among the sandalled gentry, with a gesture
that was at once pacific, soothing and commandingly
impressive. It seemed a treaty of peace had been con-
cluded. The smeary scrap of paper was handed over
to me, with a bow, and, dissembling alike my inclination
to grin and my anxiety regarding the welfare of the
rifle, I turned and we trotted on toward Ceuta.

" But that he's bad thing, sir," muttered Selaam,
behind me. " I no like him. We don't finish yet. I

THE OPEN ROAD 219

think I glad a little when we get away from that
Ceuta ! "

Selaam voiced my own sentiments exactly in his
own picturesque way, and strengthened them. Our
entry was not auspicious.

You will remember that circumstances led to my
passing last night, with Selaam and eight other good
Muslims, fishermen, pirates, robbers and what not, in
one tiny hut, the property of our host the charcoal-
burner. Now a night spent in that manner one's
shoulders between saddle-flaps, one's thoughts running
hungrily upon the menus of meals enjoyed in the past,
one's animal instincts insisting that plain bread and
cheese, if only obtainable, were excellent fare is not
at all calculated to lend ordinary neatness, far less mili-
tary precision and dignity, to one's appearance next
morning. Yet as I rode past a knot of Spanish
urchins toward the outer gate of Ceuta, Spain's
famous possession in Morocco, and Gibraltar's vis-a-
vis in the maritime entrance to the East, the cry
which greeted me was,

" Duller! Duller! Yah ingles! Los podrido
ingleses! (the rotten English!). Duller! Duller! Yah!"

The gallant first commander-in-chief of our forces
in South Africa had scarcely been flattered, I fear, to
hear so travel-stained and towzelled a wanderer as
myself addressed by his name. My own feeling in
the matter is of no importance ; it partook less of
gratification than of embarrassment.

The very officials who, to examine my pack-mule
for contraband and to ask for my passport, stopped
me beside the town moat, were grinning broadly as
they listened to our salutations from the street urchins.

220 MOROCCO

These same military officials, by the way, were
cloaked, armed, booted and spurred (not sandalled),
and struck me as being altogether more imposing than
their comrades who had taken away my gun at the
guard-house on the frontier. So I ventured to solicit
their good graces in the matter of that gun, said 1 had
no receipt for it, and showed them the dingy scrap of
newspaper with " No. 97 " scrawled upon it, which
was all the voucher I had been able to obtain. These
gentlemen shook their heads very dubiously, I thought,
as they bade me preserve with great care my " No.
97 " scrap. A poor thing to preserve indeed, but I
stowed it carefully away in my watch, and hoped foi
the best.

Through the courtesy of the British Minister ii
Tangier I had obtained an official Spanish document
commending me to the Commandant - General ol
Ceuta as a harmless person afflicted with an inan<
and purposeless desire to view Ceuta. This docu-
ment, and this alone, carried me across the great
moat, over the drawbridge, and within the walls of
Spain's fortified possession. Without it I had
assuredly been turned back, to be devoured by the
ridicule of the young gentlemen who flung at me
the distinguished name of Duller. This is certain,
and I mention it for the benefit of any reader who
may contemplate making the journey from Tangier.

The landward walls that guard Ceuta are pro-
digious, well calculated to impress Moors, and perhaps
the most solid thing in the way of fortification that
the place has to show. Riding past them and into
the clean, roughly-cobbled main street of the town,
fresh from the mountains and gorges of a country in
which everything contrived by man's hand is of the

THE OPEN ROAD 221

crudest and most meagre sort, I found Ceuta and its
buildings picturesque for the most part, very clean-
looking, trimly kept, and quite the abode of civilisa-
tion ; civilisation that is, of course, as it is understanded
and exhibited in the southern half of the Peninsula.

We rode direct to the fonda or hotel ; Selaam,
myself, our mounts, and the pack-mule. Had you
fancied that, because Ceuta is a penal settlement, and
possessed of only a certain order of civilisation, that it
therefore contained no hotel. That was your misap-
prehension. Ceuta boasts the possession of a very
distinguished hotel. It is distinguished, inasmuch as
that a good few years of wandering and a fairly
catholic experience of hostelries in the East, in
Australia, in South America, and other places
remote from Bond Street, have not as yet introduced
me to a place of entertainment more thoroughly and
consistently unsatisfactory than is Ceuta's hotel.
True, there was a certain charcoal-burner's hut in
which I found shelter once, and But no ! Let me
be just to that gaunt maker of charcoal. Personally,
I preferred his hut to this fonda.

I was shown into an apartment without a window
or any kind of ventilation, the which I was invited to
share as sleeping and sitting-room with two Spaniards.
These two gentlemen, whose acquaintance I was not
privileged to make, were doubtless excellent, and, it
may be, illustrious Sefiors. Their beds suggested an
entire aloofness from that virtue which cometh next
to godliness. Their godliness may itself have been
all sufficient for them. As for me, while I pondered
sadly over these trestle beds and I am not squeamish
Selaam, who considers me his protector and is mine,
gave me clearly to understand that he could not

222 MOROCCO

permit me to make use of this gloomy and unsavoury
place. That is the beauty of Selaam ; he is so
thoroughly the paternal despot, the beneficent tyrant,
the kindly Providence. Like a child, I yielded to him
blindly ; like a grown-up, I was truly grateful for his
tyranny.

Within the hour my autocrat had me installed in
a small but eminently decent and cleanly apartment
in the private house of a resident of respectable stand-
ing. I make no doubt that the good rascal repre-
sented that I was intimately connected with most of
the crowned heads of Europe. I was made quite
comfortable in my new quarters ; as comfortable, that
is, as might be under the circumstances. Th<
immediately preceding twenty-four hours of trav<
had rather told upon me in one or two smal
ways, and, curiously, upon Selaam. I questioned th<
Moor, and found our symptoms were identical.
Certain kinds of food, devoured with Open Road
gusto, and certain prolonged fastings ; these had
combined to somewhat disturb our internal economy.
And that brings me, haunch-down, upon a little
episode which somehow made me think chucklingly
of Rabelais.

Toward evening we wended our way, Selaam and
myself, to a certain pharmacy in Ceuta's main street.
We were the rather jeeringly observed of all street
observers, and were frequently reminded of my
nationality and of the names of various distinguished
British generals commanding in South Africa. Oddly
enough these reminders were not at all intended to be
flattering. My walks abroad in hospitable Ceuta
gave me a sympathetic insight into what I imagine
must be the feelings of a pious Oriental when he

THE OPEN ROAD 223

strolls through London attired in his Oriental best,
and accompanied by mocking urchins. We went, I
say, to a pharmacy, and by the aid of smatterings
of various tongues (I had next to no Spanish)
established an understanding with the worthy pro-
prietor. He informed me gracefully that we both
stood in urgent need of a certain excellent and
thorough purgativo which he recommended. In
all good faith I gave the word, and doses were
administered to us on the spot.

In one hour and a half, or two hours, "all would
be most well " with us, I was assured. Three hours
ater we held a consultation. Our symptoms were
still identical, Selaam's and mine, our good chemist's
prescription had failed, and our condition was in no
way improved. Together we set out once more for
the pharmacy. Now, whether our countenances
betrayed us, or native shrewdness guessed our errand,
I cannot say, but a group of young women, standing
near the chemist's, broke out into gusts of shrill
laughter upon our approach, comments containing the
word purgativo fell round us in a soprano hail,
mantilla ends were thrust into shrieking mouths, the
news was carried breathlessly from door to door,
and this last shot, fired at my bowed, diminished
head by a young lady in yellow and black, scorched
the very nape of my neck as we won to the cover of
our pharmacy.

" Purgatives for good Spaniards are wasted on
English leather-bellies ; try some Transvaal gun-
powder from Kruger ! "

In cold print, one may smile at it. In the event
I found that corner of Ceuta too warm for my Anglo-
Saxon skin. We returned to our quarters with some-

224 MOROCCO

thing more than precipitancy, and by way of a side
street. Incidentally it occurs to me, with less of regret
than relief, that I forgot to pay for those inefficacious
purgatives. But was not the episode Rabelaisian,
and of the Latins, Southern ? You are to remember
that capote-clad sentries paced under orange and
citron trees in the little square beside which those
laughing muchachas roasted the forlorn Englishman
and his Moor. They wore flowered mantillas, and
heels to their shoes that clacked liked castanets.

You know what a great service Cervantes
rendered Spain. Who knows what the future may
yet hold in store for her, and if only anothe
Cervantes should arise, to tickle her while he taught

Now, with regard to Ceuta. But, incidentall;
and as a warning against what is called candour in
friend, and uncharitableness in an enemy, I must quote
here a remark made by the good lady whose house
sheltered me. I sought to win her good graces by
praising what I supposed to be her native town. My
imagination failed me, however ; for a moment I could
think of nothing to praise. Recollection of a fact
came then, where invention failed. " Your streets are
very clean and nicely kept here," I said.

" Oh, yes ; and they should be, when labour costs
nothing. In my country, Malaga, where we have
no convicts to do those things for us there it is
different ! "

Good soul! Her remark struck me as a curious
blend of local pride, deprecation, regret, uncharitable-
ness, pessimism and modesty. I think also, by the
way, that it was substantially true. One meets the
prisoners, singly and in little gangs, all over Ceuta,
up till sunset gun-fire. They appear to do everything

THE OPEN ROAD 225

that is done in Ceuta, outside eating, drinking,
sleeping, swagger, military ceremonial, and such of
the amenities as may be looked for in a populace
composed of prisoners and their guardians, soldiers,
Jand those who supply the needs of both sections.
IThese convicts wear polo caps, short jackets and little
metal badges, like those of cabmen, on their sleeves.
Each small party of them is accompanied by a sort of
jserang ; a good-conduct man, presumably, who carries
la tough-looking stick with a thin leathern loop at its
|end. If your wrist be in the loop and the stick be
lichen violently twisted, you will be found ready, I am
assured, to express most complete agreement in any
[sort of proposition which the holder of the stick may
nave to make. Some instinct inclines me to belief in
lis theory. I accepted it freely, upon trust. But,
egarding the matter from what I imagine would be
le standpoint of any intelligent and open-minded
onvict of experience, I think that, putting aside the
>op-stick contrivance, the Ceuta prisoners are not
adly off. There are many ways of picking up food
hen you are given the freedom of the street. All
e Ceuta prisoners smoke at their work. The
imate is pleasant enough, and going to bed early is
o hardship once you have passed the age at which
is a virtue. No ; if my choice of a place of resi-
ence were limited strictly to the world's penal
tations, I am not sure that I should not hit upon
euta. Granted a slightly wider choice, I fancy I
lould prefer Bethnal Green or most other places.
When, in my hearing, Selaam made inquiry
egarding the purchase of barley for our animals, he
as told that barley and other kinds of forage were
ontraband, but that we might be able to buy a little
p

226 MOROCCO

at such and such a shop. We visited four shops,
under a resident's escort, and finally found a man
possessed of about sufficient barley to make one
satisfactory meal for our three beasts. He measured
it out in a vessel no bigger than a breakfast-cup, and
grudgingly sold it at so much the cup. The price of
that one meal had kept our animals comfortably in
Tangier (or in a village outside the Ceuta boundaries)
for a week. Most things are contraband in Ceuta,
including visitors. And in view of the first fact,
the second is perhaps scarcely to be regretted.
From the commercial standpoint the Government
could not be called liberal, and industrially
do not think the place could be called thriving
though, to be sure, I was told by members of that
profession that smuggling was fairly brisk in
Ceuta.

Somewhat to my alarm, I discovered, when our
little caravan was prepared for my departure from
Ceuta, that leaving the Spanish possession was as
fraught with difficulty and official ceremony as
entering it. However, when I had made my salaams
to a variety of uniformed authorities, and furnished
them with all such essential information, as the date
of my birth (my reply on this point failed for quite
a little while to satisfy one generalissimo, who was
convinced that I was older or younger than I
admitted), the marriage question, my business,
physical peculiarities, residence when at home and
when not at home, my religious views, my family
history, and the like ; then, or within an hour or so oi
then, I was presented with a ticket-of-leave, and, as it
were, carefully watched off the premises by two
severe officials, who appeared convinced that they

THE OPEN ROAD 227

were dealing with a criminal of very desperate char-
acter, and by a small mob of the young gentlemen
who persisted in addressing me as a general from
Sfluth Africa.

At the frontier guard-house they protested entire
ignorance of anything like a Lee-Metford sporting-
rifle, and turned up their respective noses at my poor
little " No. 97 " scrap of paper, the only thing I had
ith virhich to support my claim to my own gun. I
ould have wept, if the boys had not been calling
e " Buller." Selaam began to look dangerous. His
ht hand was fumbling under his djellab, where, to
y knowledge, there hung a certain murderous
agger. I was reminded uncomfortably of a little
ity-gate difficulty of mine some time ago, in which
elaam had come near to butchering a whole board
f guardians when they were rude to me. I cast
bout me for a- means of compromise, and found
stead, as chance directed, the hoary old dotard by
hose intervention I had secured the "No. 97"
crap. Selaam roused the patriarch for me, where he
y asleep under his boat, and for a minute his
eumy eyes had the blindness, or the impudence, to
eny recognition of me. I was fumbling for back-
eesh, when sudden shame descended upon the
uard ; a member of it stalked into their quarters,
turned with my gun, handed it me without a word,
d presented me with a full view of his narrow-
ouldered back.

Selaam murmured in his native tongue a soft
mark upon the subjects of pigs, graves, and the
|icestry of the Spanish army. Then we rode away
oss the neutral strip of shrivelled-up river-bed
to Moorish territory.

228 MOROCCO

" You little glad, sir ? " he said as we took to the
hills.

" What about, Selaam ? "

*' We leave Ceuta, sir."

"Well, yes; I think I am, a little. Morocco,
he's better, eh ? "

" Ih yeh! sir!" He has a way of putting
volumes into a word occasionally, has this Moor.

And now with regard to Ceuta, the town, our
Gibraltar's vis-a-vis. But I fancy the guide-books
contain very adequate and useful information about
Ceuta. It is not a bad prison, as prisons go. As a
fortified station, too, it has indubitably great natural
strategical and geographical advantages. Also, in
the hands of a great and wealthy power, able to
spend, say, from five to ten millions for a beginning
upon fortifying it, Ceuta would be something of a
menace to British power in the Mediterranean. At
present its guns, or those of them that can be seen,
are suggestive of Moorish armaments. At present it
is not in the hands of such a power as I have
mentioned, and, rumour to the contrary notwith-
standing, I cannot think it ever will be, while the
pride of the Spanish people remains a factor to be
reckoned with by the rulers of Spain. And that
will remain a factor, I think, for so long as the
Spanish people remain a nation. Should the
nation

But it certainly will not materially change before
I get through with this my return journey from
Ceuta to Tangier ; and then I may find opportunity
to post you further in the matter.

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 1

' A 1[ THO can say ? Only that which is written can
VV be. But, between the S6k and the big

mosque, I met three French poodles this morning,
and each one freshly and modishly shaved
bardieu / "

I had but that moment landed from the little
inglish steamer, and, to my surprise, had been
greeted in Tangier's barbaric custom-house by a
ournalist of some repute in Europe, a kindly
Cosmopolitan whom I had last seen, a year before, in
he Plaza de Fernandos, Seville. His remark about
Drench poodles was proffered by way of reply to my
[uestion : " Well, and how goes the political game of
?rab in Morocco?" I smiled.

"And what," I asked, "is the Moorish view of
his fashion in dogs ? " My friend shrugged his
slegantly-clad shoulders with Oriental exaggeration.

" Simply, my friend, that all things, the good, the
aad and the indifferent, are from Allah el Wahad
God the One), and cannot be otherwise. 'The
Moving Finger' and 'nor all the tears.' But,
3'ism Illah, you should know the attitude ! "

My cosmopolitan friend, in his bright way,
issumed too much. No Westerner may truly know
he attitude. Yet if they have not been lived wholly
n vain, the last few years have brought to me some

1 Published in the Fortnightly Review, July 1901.
229

230 MOROCCO

inkling of it, by the will of Allah and the mouths of
Moors. And I am bound to admit that the inkling is
not exhilarating to a lover of Morocco.

Leaving my journalistic friend then, and followed
by mine own particular rascal among Moors, I wended
my way over the familiar cobbles of the main street,
past the great mosque, and so by the inner Sok to
the abode of my trusted friend and counsellor, Hadj
Mohammed Mokdin the f'keeh, ex-kadi, past
master of Al Koran and its commentaries, and
courtly, learned student in the book of Moorish life
and affairs. Here disappointment stepped out to
greet me, in the person of Hadj Cassim, the third son
of my old counsellor. His father, though advised of
my coming, had been obliged to leave Tangier four
days since, for the coast and Marrakish. It was an
order. There was no gainsaying his Lord the
Sultan's message. The old scholar was needed at
Court, and so for the time was lost to me.

" But the Hadj, my father, will send thee written
word from the Court of Allah's anointed, giving thee
all news thereof. For that reason a swift courier
went with him. Also, here be written pages for thy
hand, the which held my father to his cushions for
many hours upon the eve of his going hence."

Now, it was known to Hadj Cassim that I lacked
altogether understanding of the written word in
Arabic, and so it presently fell out, when glasses of
steaming, syrupy green tea had been served to us in
the little patio, that the young man himself read for
my edification the letter written by his father. Here
then is my topical learning for your use, as I gleaned
it in the mint-scented little patio of Hadj Mokdin's
Tangier house, where one of the most scholarly and

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 231

intelligent of Moors lives poorly, for the reason that
he grinds no mercenary axe, and pursues ever
knowledge rather than pelf or place.

" To that Nazarene who is separated from the
writer rather by race than in the spirit, by blood than
in thought, and whose honourable name is inscribed
hereover : greeting, salutation, and devout good
wishes from Hadj Mohammed Mokdin, by Allah's
mercy, student of His book and His works, in this
curious Tangier of the borderland, where belief
toucheth unbelief, and much trafficking maketh
neither for wisdom nor cleanliness. B'ism Illah !

" My son will have told thee of my absence and
its cause. Being what I am, I grieve not for that
which was written, yet heartily do I trust that it may
prove Allah's will that I may look upon thy face, in
the calm, thinking hours of evening, after my return,
in sha' Allah, to Tangier. And now to give thee of
the little that my mind hath of judgment, where the
affairs of our Sunset Land are concerned.

"To the mouse we may assume that no other
matter hath so great an import as the movements of the
cat. In the matter of the French encroachments in
the south-east, I have to tell thee that, in my opinion,
France is actually rather farther from (though
apparently nearer) her desire than at the period of
your parting from me here last year. It is true that,
acting from that base she stole last year, Igli ; France
has occupied 6000 men in the oases this winter, and
finished her winter's work by surrounding, but not
occupying, Figuig. But this in truth is no more than
a part of her admitted seizure of Igli. Figuig, though
farther south, is no farther within our Lord's

232 MOROCCO

boundaries, and indeed is less clearly a portion of his
realm. We of the Faith saw clearly last year
that the seizure of Igli was but the marking of a
fandak and halting-place on the road to Figuig, the
which is now ripe fruit for French gathering. 1

"That is no great matter. There, on the border-
line, where French protection hath long been a thing
of common barter, and her influence necessarily
strong, so much was to be expected. But far more
was to be expected during this last winter. France's
6000 soldiers were there established ; before them the
great Tafilet oases, cradle of the reigning dynasty
elevated by Allah. Much was expected, I say, am
with reason. And there has happened nothing, nv
friend. And if you ask me how and why, I woul<
say that now France is turning the first page in hei
real learning of the difficulties which do beset hei
path across this our Morocco. I would speak withoul
malice, but with sorrow. The soldiers of France hav<
suffered bitterly in a land they were not born t<
master by sheer force of arms. ' Remember oui
Lord Kitchener and the Dervishes,' you would say.
My friend, there be many and great differences,
beginning with Figuig's remoteness from such a high-
way as the Nile, and including this fact, not as yet
known to Europe. The Moors of the desert shoot
sitting or lying down, are past masters in ambush,
cover-taking, and the arts of harassing night attacks,
in country every stone of which is known to their
very horses, and unknown to the Christian. Your
Lord Kitchener could never mow them down with
his machine guns, for to be mown a crop must stand

1 The "ripe fruit" was "gathered," as newspaper readers are
aware, a few months ago. A. J. D. 1903.

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 233

and be visible. Further, my friend, it is (more largely
than ye of the North believe) the cause which decides
the fight. In Egypt, the Mahdi was his own cause,
placing himself before Islam. He invited the
Khedive and the Sultan of Turkey to acknowledge
him. He fought not for Allah the One and his
Prophet, but for the Mahdi. That was his loss and
the loss of his followers. For in Islam there is but
one banner which can so rally Believers that victory
becomes theirs ; and that is the green banner of
Islam itself. Khedive and Sultan both instructed
Egypt that the Mahdi was a kharig, or pervert, an
infidel, warring upon Islam. So Egypt fought him
with your Lord Kitchener and his soldiers, and great
was the fall of the Mahdi. But how if he had raised
only the banner of Islam, fighting only to repel the
infidel, a Jehad, and had fought always from cover,
and never with his legions as standing crops for the
scythes of your machinery. Think you, Muslim,
Egypt had fought then under your Lord Kitchener
and against Islam? Never! never! They had
fought assuredly, and with your guns ; but pointed
the other way, my friend. And what then of France's
Algerian legions ? Believe thou me, France has been
asking herself that question.

" * But France holds Algeria/ you say. My friend,
you see there the work, not of a winter, but of over
fifty years. And here is a point for thee in that
matter, the which Europe knoweth not. Thou
knowest that my friend, Wold Ayadda, the Adra
Sheikh, receives some $500 a month tribute from
France, that he may maintain peace in his part of
the territory called Algerian. There be others like
him, a few. Now among all the common people in

234 MOROCCO

Algeria, and all save the learned and high officials in
Morocco, the belief is firmly fixed that this is the basis
of France's occupation of Algeria. You cannot shake
that conviction. ' The land is ours, by Allah's mercy,
and belongs not at all to France ; as witness these
things, our chiefs are paid in great sums of tribute for
permitting the French to reside and trade here.'
Thou seest the position. The facts are what thou
wilt. I tell thee of the people's fixed belief, for and
by which they will fight. Hold thou that in thy
mind while I tell thee why France hath not seized
Figuig this winter by force of arms, though, for the
success of her plans, Figuig must presently become a
station (terminus for the time) of her Ain Sefra
railroad, the which, through Igli, is to drain the
commerce of the desert and so starve our already
hungering Morocco. 1

"Thou knowest Hadj Ali Aboutali, of the clacking
tongue. That tongue of his has made the French
cold to him at last. Too many have learned of the
blood-money earned four years back by Hadj Ali,
when he visited the Figuig oases by authority of
France. France was troubled by the power of the
great Figuig Shareef. Hadj Ali bore papers to him.
Hadj Ali ate his bread as friend during two moons of
rest and talk, there in Figuig. On the last evening,
Hadj Ali mixed the tea. In the morning the Shareef
sickened and died, warning his people of the cause
thereof. The tea dregs, tested, proved the truth.
Hadj Ali was hotly pursued, but he had started, not
that day, but over-night, and upon picked horses,
galloping for dear life, to to collect his pay here in

1 Hadj Mokdin's prophecies of two years ago are the accomplished
facts of to-day. A, J. D. Jan. 1904.

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 235

Tangier. Thou knowest he received his payment,
and the Shareef troubled the infidels no more.

" Now, five days ago a cousin of Hadj Ali's arrived
here from Figuig, and, over the good green tea, told
me of this winter's happenings there. Briefly, this
is the way of it. General Risbourg reached the
neighbourhood of Figuig, a gallant soldier sick at
heart and wearied to exhaustion by his advance
through a country in which the wells upon his line
of march were choked by retreating tribesmen who
killed his animals by night and harassed him by day
with many well-aimed bullets from invisible sources :
the whole in a climate which, even then, was a great
affliction to white men from the North. The general
decided to try amicable treaty with the Sheikhs of
Figuig. Now, at that very time, the two great
Filali Sheikhs were closeted together with an official
messenger from their Lord and ours at Marrakish.
The Sultan's word was : ' Peace ! War not yet upon
the Christian dogs, for that were to disturb other
affairs which I, thy Lord, have in hand. Fear not.
The Lord of all Filalis hath his people in mind and
in safe keeping. Yet, for the moment it doth not suit
thy Lord to show open hostility.'

" It was an order. The Sheikhs were content ; their
faith in their Lord strengthened. l Our Lord will
come presently, with his armies/ they said. * Mean-
while a smile for the infidels ; bared teeth, and open
hands.' Said another Sheikh : ' Yes ; bared teeth,
and open hands. It is as well that the Christians should
pay while we smile, B'ism Illah!' And, while they
talked together, General Risbourg's messengers
approached. Now the Figuig Sheikhs wax fat and
lazy, and the ornaments of their dancing girls come

236 MOROCCO

out of Algeria, paid for in French money. And
France feels that the summer withdrawal of troops
may be faced with complaisance. B'ism Illah ! Those
who till the earth in France must needs pay for
French vanity. It was written. And the tribesmen
smile, for they have heard that, from the Gharb to
the Atlas word hath gone forth among the Kaids to
collect the Harka tax and proceed with their men to
er- Rabat, there to await our Lord the Sultan's coming
from Marrakish, on his way to the northern Court of
Fez, whence, say the Tuat folk, he "will assuredly
descend in his might upon the oases, to sweep back
the struggling tide of infidels from Algeria. 1 They d
not know, as I know, that the same orders have bee
issued three times in the last thirteen moons, whils
our Lord still bides at Marrakish. Above all, they
know nothing of our young Lord, his Court, his new
Wazeer, or the maze of Sus insurrection and Marrakish
intrigue. For their sakes, as well as others, I would
not have the Sheikhs learn of these matters yet awhile,
for when they do, French money will be powerless to
stay bloodshed in the Tuat."

At this stage the letter of my friend Hadj Mokdin
branched off into a vein more personal and less
calculated, as I see it, to interest the general reader.
Therefore I suppress the remainder of the good man's
epistle and proceed forthwith to the dispatch under his
seal, and of a later date, which has since reached me
from the Court at Marrakish, where Hadj Mokdin now
awaits the pleasure of his Lord and Allah's chosen

1 Those who had the Sultan's ear affirm that this actually was
his programme until the Pretender, and the state of Moorish feeling
he represented, intervened. A. J. D. 1904.

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 237

Abd el Aziz IV., the youthful head of this crumbling
realm. Hadj Mokdin's views, as given here, are not
European. Yet they are vastly nearer to the best-
informed European point of view than is the typical
Moorish outlook, by token that Hadj Mokdin is one of
an ever-decreasing minority in this naturally blessed
land of human poverty and natural decadence ; he is a
broad-minded, observant and intelligent man of letters,
void of the fanatic taint and mentally virile. It were
hard to exaggerate in pointing out the sad and extreme
rarity among ktter-day Moors of minds like Hadj
Mokdin's. Among European students of this people
there are to be found some optimistic enough to affirm
that if in the person of any one Moor there could be
found Hadj Mokdin's intellectual gifts, allied to in-
dividual ambition and the leader's instinct, hope
might reasonably be entertained of the building
up, from the present invertebrate ruin called Morocco,
a new and living empire worthy of the powerful
Moorish tradition. It is certain that even modern
Moors will do much at the bidding of a genuine live
leader, having their own blood in his veins ; and that
at present the listless body of the people altogether
lacks a head. But, granting to them much offensive
and defensive potential vigour under inspired leader-
ship, the open-minded student of this people must
needs admit regretful dubiety if called upon to forecast
their capabilities in the direction of peaceful self-
administration. Cl Given the right leader," says a
Syrian friend of mine, who has handled human raw
material in the desert, and knows his Arab as clubmen
know Pall Mall, " the Moors might go anywhere ; ay,
even into the citadels of Spain again, by virtue of
guns, horses, and the banner of Islam. But, once

238 MOROCCO

there, they would fall to sleeping, singing and tea-
drinking, till their prize was drawn from them again."
Truly the arts of peace form the one, the essential
foundation upon which the fabric of a modern nation
must rest ; they form the binding mortar lacking
which the winds of modern civilisation will inevitably
set the bravest structure a-crumbling into decay.

I pass over the somewhat unusually drawn-out
preliminaries of Hadj Mokdin's letter from the royal
city of Marrakish. The essence of it runs in thus
wise :

" Here at the Court of our Lord is very much that
grieveth me, and nought as yet that brings light to
my heart. That our Lord hath apparently forgotten
having sent for Hadj Mokdin is as nothing a date-
stone. That Allah's chosen and those about him
should forget the land of the Moors, its history and its
present place upon the edge of disaster ; these be
matters which grieve me more than any word of mine
may tell. It is without doubt written, and the Will,
yet B'fsm Illah ! I know something of the mass of my
countrymen, and in my heart's heart I am made sick.

"You know, my friend, that Moulai Hassan, the
late Sultan, now occupying a high place in Paradise,
was a strong man. Ah, how prettily he held the
strings of Morocco's main defences, the which, as you
know, are the international jealousies of Europe ! And
more, he was a strong man in the administration of
this land; too wise to fancy he might rule by
European methods, and, withal, wise and strong
enough to glean what benefit he might from the
wisdom of others, and to apply the same with a
velvet-covered hand of very steel. Scarcely less

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 239

strong was Ba Ahmed, the chosen right arm of the
Sultan. So strong and so resourceful, this great
Wazeer, that when his Master died, while journeying,
Ba Ahmed kept the secret, bearing his Lord's corpse
n a litter, and ordering meals for the dead Sultan,
through many days, till the safety of city walls was
ttained, the Court settled, and all things prepared for
the proclamation of young Abd el Aziz's accession.
A great Wazeer, for Morocco, was Ba Ahmed. And,
up till the day of his death last year, he ruled Morocco,
and the young Sultan, his Lord, cruelly you Europeans
would say, strongly, and as Moors must be ruled for
cohesion's sake, say we who know, and as his dead
rord had ruled. And then Ba Ahmed died, as was
written. Waili ! An ill day for Al Moghreb.

4 'Then came the true accession of our young Lord
Abd el Aziz IV., whom may Allah fortify as He hath
:hosen. Then stepped out from behind the Throne a
Dower hitherto silent, unseen of men : Lalla R'kia,
he Circassian mother of our Lord ; subtle, disturbing,
>ur Lord's reminder of the blood in his veins that is
>ther than Moorish. To-day, by Allah and His
'rophet, a man may weep to see the weekly, daily
warring in our Lord of the two streams ; the heights
twixt which, falling, he lieth prone, missing the good
n both. Our Lord, then, being thus and not other-
wise, one wastes no time in idle meditation upon what
he future may hold in its hand. That which is
written, Allah in his wisdom permitteth no man to
enow until the event discloses it. Turn we, who
hink, to the companions of our Lord's right hand, the
human flies that hover about the Presence. Our
Lord is such that these, under Allah, have the shaping
f the future for him.

240 MOROCCO

" Now there is Corony Maclean (Colonel Maclean,
C.M.G., or, as he is more generally called, Kaid
Maclean, the British instructor of the Sultan's troops,
and unofficial political resident at Marrakish), he is a
countryman of thine, and I am the more glad to say
that, to my knowledge, he has worked no ill but rather,
it may be, some good at Court. I deal not in idle
compliments. I do not say the Corony is a great
patriot, still less a saviour of Morocco. But an
honourable man is a good influence, and I be-
lieve that Corony Maclean has not served his
own interests in Marrakish other than honourably.
What shall I say of the Frenchman and the French
protected Jew, the commercial agents at the Court ?
This I will say, that they have achieved so much, that
here in Marrakish, true Believers must withdraw to
the privacy of their own apartments to curse these two.
They and their influence may not, without dire risk,
be openly reviled. .And the most of Moors are moved
in their hearts to revile these men. Nay, through
them, we draw near the stage at which our Lord
himself must and will be reviled and held cheaply in
his subjects' eyes. 1

" My friend, they play upon the weakest strain in
one of the streams from our Lord's heart which fill his
body. They have drawn him from the honest attempt
to grapple with affairs of state (affairs crying aloud to
be handled firmly), to trifle with their accursed
mechanical toys. From these to Paris gauds, nameless
things, to us unclean. At least, they be things the
which Kaid Maclean would not procure. From these
to an imported French circus, a troupe of French girls ;

1 The absolute truth of this prophecy has been pitifully established
at Fez. A. J. D. 1904.

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 241

dancers they are called. Allah protect us ! Upon
their neglected graves whelps of the Sok will without
doubt be encouraged to gambol. Unveiled tempta-
tions, fatherless, a call to outer darkness.

" Read this thinkingly, with your understanding
eyes, friend, for somewhat ye know of our land, its
people, and ye will accordingly grieve with me.
Many days before I reached the Court, some folk
came here (a long journey, as thou knowest) to
petition our Lord in the matter of a certain water
supply, the which they were like to lose to Christians ;
a long story. Our Lord sent them sheep, candles
and tea, with word that he would presently see them.
Turned he again then to the Paris toys. Weeks
passed. Two days ago I was admitted to the palace
grounds, with the headman of this deputation. Our
Lord, busy with Paris toys, spoke impatiently to those
Nazarenes about him. Theirs was the framing of
the message sent to the deputation. That night I
read the letter sent by the deputation to the tribe in
Anjorra, whose cause they served. * Be not impatient,'
it said, * our Lord has treated us with great favour, as
witness the enclosed sealed paper from his Eyebrow
(Chamberlain) which tells that our Lord's soldiers,
having fought and defeated the French with great
slaughter, in the South, have sent to our Lord much
treasure and 300 French ladies. For the time
our Lord is accordingly much occupied. Be not
impatient.' 1

" Would ye hear, my friend, how and why the
change in the Wazeerate which placed Kaid Mennebhi

1 This is no fictive decoration. The precious document was
examined by a well-known English gentleman in Tangier, State
Secretary's seals, royal stamp, and all. A. J. D.

Q

242 MOROCCO

at the head of affairs came about ? The ex-Grand
Wazeer happened inopportunely into the Presence
when our Lord was being started upon a bicycle by
one of the infidels. To him, true Muslim and a Moor
of the Moors, the sight was revolting, indecent.
Thinking of the inevitable effect of such things in
sapping our Lord's authority, he ventured upon re-
monstrance. What followed thou knowest. A mission,
a journey, swift-riding followers from the palace,
heavy chains and a seat upon a mule's back ; and now
the ex- Wazeer lies rotting in prison.

"And of what like is his successor? Friend, he
hath greater strength, somewhat greater cunning, full
measure, and of honesty no little grain beyond that
brazen sort which permits of his self-seeking and dis-
honesty being shown to Marrakish, with never a
shred of disguise. He has shown me what Morocco
has never seen before : the public sale by public
auction of Kaids' and Bashas' posts to the highest
bidder, followed by the selling of that highest bidder
(in three cases) within twelve days, himself into prison,
his new-bought post to one who paid a yet higher
price. Never before has that been done openly.

" To sum all up, my friend, I grieve because I find
the affairs of my native land in parlous order, demand-
ing, as never before in the history of Morocco, the
guidance of a strong, clear mind, a veritable Sultan.
That my country's affairs most urgently need. They
have a governing power composed of half-a-dozen
corrupt creatures of a corrupt, short-sighted, cruel,
and desperately greedy Wazeer, whose rightful Lord
is occupied exclusively in Bah ! We have spoken
of those whose graves will be defiled, and of the
trumpery gauds from Paris bazaars. And this, while

A SWAN'S SONG FROM MOROCCO 243

the turbulent Sus is aflame, the far south-east a vol-
cano, a mine charged by French aggression, waiting
only the match of knowledge of our Lord's indiffer-
ence ; the country betwixt Tafilet and Fas is openly
given over to brigandage and anarchy ; and even El
Ksar, Arzila and the Gharb, Tangier's outskirts, are
full of unrest and disorder, crimes and indifference to
crimes. 1

"And over and through it all, my friend, I catch
the glint of the hungry, determined eyes of the Power
that holds Algeria, falling across my Moghreb's deadly
weaknesses, even as the piercing brilliance of the
search-lights on that nation's ships of war have swept
across the crumbling gaps in Tangier's walls, while I
sat on mine own roof, reflecting upon the sorry end
which would seem to have been written as the destiny
of the Moorish Empire. That grieves me, oh, assur-
edly it grieves me, my friend. But would you know
what thing it is that trickleth like slow, still poison
into my heart, deadening the life there, and preparing
me to face my written end with not with gladness
with tired sorrow, yet as one approaching release ?
It is this conviction : that my beloved land is ripe
fruit, near, terribly near to one infidel nation's grip,
not so much by reason of England's curious aloofness,
e not entirely because of the strength-sapping influences
i, at work upon our young Sultan, not at all because we
ijllack machine guns, but because, by Allah the One
inland his Holy Prophet, our race is run, my friend, and
jJwe that be Moors are falling, falling beside the way of
man's journey across this world. B'ism Illah !"

[he I l Reference even to the telegraphic news in European journals
uring the month of May will amply justify these statements.

244

MOROCCO

The end of Hadj Mokdin's letter is personal, and
I have little heart to transcribe more of it. All that I
have given here is truly his, and that without embel-
lishment. His name I have altered. That I owe to
him. The rest is as he wrote it, and given here for
the reason that, at this stage of its decline, the views
of a thinking Moor upon the situation of his country
should deserve consideration.

MOROCCO, THE MOORS AND THE
POWERS '

MOROCCO is no wanton lover, careless or free
with her favours ; but rather a somewhat
sphinx-like mistress, with eyes voluptuously half-
closed, and a personality that reveals her charms
gradually, obscurely, and, to the uninitiate, quite
sparingly. Here is no glittering Casino, or incon-
tinently-smiling Plage. " Admire me, court me if you
will," murmurs the Afternoon Land; "or leave me
and go hence no wiser than you came. You will in
any case do the thing which is written, and that only.
One thing is not written, and shall not be : you cannot
disturb me ; for I am Al Moghreb of the Believers ;
upon my left breast lies the Garden of the Hesperides ;
my garland is of the lotus flower ; as Carthaginian
Hanno found me five centuries before the coming of
the Nazarene Mahdi, or ever Moulai Idrees raised
upon my shoulder the green flag of Islam, so am I to-
day and shall be to-morrow. B'ism Illah ! "

So one might imagine the essential spirit of Mor-
occo addressing that remote antithesis which the maps
assure us is its near neighbour : the spirit of Europe.
So the mass of Moors may be said to feel and think.
The error is scarcely less grotesque, and not at all
less pathetic, than is many another feature of this

1 Published in the Fortnightly Review^ February 1903.
245

246 MOROCCO

absolutely old-world and barbaric country, from whose
shores one may hear the firing of modern guns in
very modern Gibraltar, and see the cliffs in the shadow
of which Britain's greatest admiral met his end.

During the past thousand years Morocco and the
Moors have influenced Europe shrewdly. No more
than one hundred years have passed since London
merchants, with devout gratitude to the forthright
Yankees who finally pricked the blood-red bubble of
the Sallee Rover, ceased paying annual tribute to the
Moorish Sultan by way of bribe to save their ships
from pillage and their sailors from being captured as
slaves for the Court at Marrakish or Fez. Yet it may
fairly be said that Morocco and the Moors have made
no more response than has Thibet to any one among
the influences and events which have moulded modern
Christendom and the mighty civilisation of the West.
The stately mosques of bygone Moorish warriors
(Christendom has nothing to excel them in dignity)
are now the cathedrals of Christian Spain ; but you
shall look vainly in Morocco for traces of European
growth and change, or even for a genuine convert (in
full possession of his mental faculties) to any European
faith. Upon the coast you may happen upon some
few moderns among Moors who have added certain
European vices to their own sufficiently-comprehen-
sive list. Modernity and decadence, beyond the
average acute, are synonymous in Morocco. But this
scarcely touches the broad fact, which is that in all
Northern Africa Morocco remains the one corner as
yet unexploited, uninfluenced, unappropriated by civil-
isation. Yet, both strategically and physically, it must
at once be acknowledged of far greater importance in
the eyes of European nations than any part of South

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 247

Africa ; and this most notably in the regard of any
great maritime Power of the North. Gibraltar is but
one of the two pillars of Hercules.

Regarding its intrinsic value, one can affirm little
beyond the obvious facts that it is abundantly fertile,
richly endowed as to climate and coast, hill and river,
and, that rarest of all things to-day, a virgin land,
unravaged by the miner, and no more than idly
coaxed and cozened by the agriculturist. As the
granary of some overcrowded European country it
were hard to find the equal of Morocco. Gold, silver,
antimony, copper, iron, these are among many
treasures which Sunset Land is known to hold in her
lap, stores upon which no man has drawn to any
appreciable extent.

Turning to the people, the race which occupies
this still veiled shoulder of the continent that civilisa-
tion has for the most part made naked, one finds
traces and to spare of change and movement, but
never a hint of a step toward Europe or its standards
of progress. The cave-dwelling Berbers discovered
in possession and used with consummate generalship
as soldiers by the men who, fleeing from the Mecca
of Mohammed's day, founded a Moorish dynasty
remain to-day the same hardy, rock-scaling, semi-
savages who resented the Muslim intrusion of a
thousand years ago. They are precisely the same
men, living in precisely the same way, and they are
occupying themselves at this moment as they were
occupied then ; the same blind, fierce resentment,
the same dogged, savage insurrection, the same
methods of making both felt. But with the Moors
proper, the ruling people of Morocco, matters are far
otherwise. Young Abd el Aziz, the present Sultan

248 MOROCCO

prisoner, one had almost written at Fez, is scarcely
more capable of dealing with the rebellious moun-
taineers and fanatics of his realm after the crushing,
masterful manner of his ancestors, than he and his
subjects are capable of re-taking and occupying the
capitals of Andalusia.

And that brings one to what is at once the most
striking and the most momentous consideration which
occupies the minds of understanding students of the
Moorish race and the Moorish Empire their unmis-
takable and essential decadence.

Human and animal, political and material, national
and individual, steady, inexorable, pathetic and un-
redeemed, the deterioration is writ large and clear,
and the man who studies may not fail to read and
admit the grievous thing, however reluctantly.
Indeed, the most reluctant, the most generously
partial, are the most assured, the men who have most
loyally and affectionately served the Moors, are the
men most clearly convinced of this unhappy truth.
For they have learned the most. They have learned,
to name one among examples the proper enumeration
of which would fill a volume, that the national spirit
is absolutely and entirely defunct among Moors. It
has not suffered an eclipse ; it is non-existent. A
very cursory study of the history of the Moorish
people, in Spain particularly, will suggest to the
average mind that the citizen spirit never did exist
among them. It certainly has not even a traditional
significance to the modern Moor, whose outlook but
barely embraces even the co-operation of the village
community, and is absolutely indifferent to the fate of
warring tribes separated by a range of hills from his
own. " When they," the attacking party, "reach my

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 249

town you will see ! " he says ; and listlessly resumes
his avocation, be it wayside robbery, desultory earth-
tilling, hunting, begging, or sitting at the receipt of
extorted tribute, a Saint or a Basha.

Mentally, morally and physically, the Moor is
developing along a downward line. Individual
freedom from the taint of deplorable physical
disease is exceptional ; from the taint of racial and
national corruption and decay no Moor is free.

" One gleam I see, not of hope, but of relief from
the general murkiness," says an authority of life-long
experience. "The Moor is as yet, broadly speaking,
clear of the liquor curse, a fact for which he has to
thank the real and living faith of Islam. Acting upon
a body so diseased, alcoholism would mean complete
disintegration in Morocco."

Yet another authority, whose intimate knowledge,
and shoulder-to-shoulder daily experience of Moors
in that singular and now vanished outpost of civilisa-
tion, the Cape Juby Trading Station, makes his
opinions of value, said to the writer of these lines a
year ago :

" Yes, they are hopelessly decadent, and have no
national feeling ; but given a leader, a strong leader,
Moors could and would achieve wonders under arms.
For industrial development and the arts of peace I
won't say. But fighting for a cause, under an
inspiring leader, with a religious war-cry, the Moors
would yet go far."

Ba Hamdra, the Father of the She-Ass and

250 MOROCCO

pretender to the Shareefian Parasol, is a leader not
altogether without talent ; that he has proved. Re-
ligion has entered' into his cause, for he has given
out, or allowed his following to give out, that he is the
forerunner of the veritable Mahdi of Islam. He has
a fine war-cry, rich in traditional inspiration : " Down
with the Nazarenes, who have twisted your mock
Sultan round their finger ends, and are creeping in
upon us with their accursed, devil-sent inventions and
customs of the infidel ! "

But, when all is said, the man is never more than
a symptom of the times. The times, and the main-
springs of the times ; they are the things.

Regarded as a Moorish ruler and leader, the late
Sultan, Moulai Hassan, was a strong man almost,
perhaps, a great man. The loss of Morocco is that
apparently she cannot produce his like in the present
generation. She was richer a few years ago ; and
that is part of her decadence. Moulai Hassan had a
companion of his right hand : Ba Ahmed, the Grand
Wazeer. In them Morocco could boast the posses-
sion of two strong men ; crude, narrow of vision, even
brutal and merciless, if judged by European standards,
yet genuinely strong men. The greater of them died,
and his subordinate successfully hid the fact until
preparations were made and the succession of the
youth, Abd el Aziz, assured. Be it remembered that
Ba Ahmed, the survivor, was a strong man in his own
right. Young Abd el Aziz was docile perforce, and
Ba Ahmed ruled, without pity, with greed, and quite
unhampered by what Europe calls honour or justice.
Also, he ruled without weakness, cherishing in safe'ty
that mysterious condition which is called the status
quo in Morocco, and thereby conserving to his

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 251

country its first and only line of defence, which is,
and for long has been, the naturally watchful and
more than a little jealous rivalry of those European
nations who wait beside the couch of her mortal
sickness.

Rather more than two years ago, when already
the country was perturbed by news of the French
advance upon and occupation of Igli, the Moorish
town which was regarded as the depot and junction
via which the caravan traffic of the desert filtered
through Morocco to the coast, at this critical juncture,
in the thick of conflicting intrigues, poisonings and
official treachery, Ba Ahmed, the greatly feared,
greatly hated and rigidly-obeyed Wazeer, died at
Marrakish, leaving many scheming heirs-presumptive
to his office, but no single successor to the mantle of
his authority, the inherent masterfulness of his
personality.

Still, youthful Abd el Aziz IV. stretched forth
both hands and personally took up the fallen reins of
government with a great flourish of trumpets and dis-
play of energy. He would be his own Wazeer, said
the young Sultan. It seemed the young man rejoiced
to win clear of his swaddling clothes, the rigid
tutelage of Ba Ahmed. Reflecting upon the Sultan's
youth and breeding, men marvelled at the flourish of
trumpets, and optimistic Europeans, naturally gratified
by the active good sense with which Abd el Aziz
checked his Filali tribesmen's turbulent resentment of
contact with the French in Igli and its oasis, freely
predicted a new lease of life for the Moorish Empire.
They credited the new broom with powers which, in
view of its origin and environment, had been little
short of miraculous. And they omitted reflection

252 MOROCCO

regarding the hand which moved the new broom.
This was a power behind the Parasol, a latent intel-
ligence, not wholly Moorish, capricious, feminine,
subtle, unstable, and somewhat vitiated from long
repression in an unwholesome atmosphere. The late
Moulai Hassan's Circassian wife, young Abd el Aziz's
mother, Lalla R'kia, had also found a dangerous
emancipation in the death of Ba Ahmed.

These were stirring days that saw the sweeping
out in the summer of 1900 of that far-off Court among
the tangled gardens and ruined palaces of Marrakish,
the residents of which are, in all other senses than
the geographical, immeasurably farther distant from
Europe than are the denizens of the remotest mining
camp in the Antipodes. Corrupt officials (to be frank,
there are no other kinds in Marrakish), made some-
what bewildered, much relieved, and feverishly eager
for plunder, by the departure of the stern master-
plunderer, whom all had respected as well as envied
and hated ; timid, servile neophytes in the game
of oppression, cruelty and ' ' squeezing "; bloated
ministers whom Ba Ahmed had found worth fatten-
ing, lieutenants ambitious for dishonesty's laurels,
and plain, steady-going holders of place, who, judged
by Marrakish standards, kept their hands clean ; all
alike were vitally affected and disturbed, frightened
and jostled out of their respective ruts, by Abd el
Aziz's sudden, energetic bound into his Sultan's role.
And the pale woman behind the throne, with her
faded repute for beauty the student of Oriental
character, the observer of racial laws and their out-
working, would give much to know exactly what the
trend and tenor of her mind, so prolific of elaborate
yet infinitely-circumscribed intrigue, may have been at

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 253

this time. Who shall say what swiftly-soaring hopes
may have dwindled and fallen into resigned paltriness
in the brain of that racially-handicapped woman ?
what sudden, climbing ambitions may have tripped
and slid into the venal quagmire of routine in that
barbaric headquarters of Moorish corruption and
decadence ?

Casually-observant Nazarenes saw rich, cruel
officials swept from their high estate by wholesale,
and predicted the birth of probity at Court. Notori-
ous gainers by oppression were loaded with chains in
Kasbah dungeons ; the young Sultan's brother, the
One- Eyed, whom cautious Ba Ahmed had kept secure
in Tetuan prison, was established on parole at
Mequinez, and, " Here's positive purity of administra-
tion ! " cried the surface-reading hopeful in Christian-
ridden Tangier.

Of a sudden, all movement ceased. The young
Sultan was lost sight of behind the curtain. Trembl-
ing officials still at large, and flushed beginners upon
the cushions of the wights imprisoned, drew long
breaths, sipped tea once more, gave the praise to
Allah, smoothed their plumage, and, for the nonce,
began to regard their shadows with equanimity.

The understanding Europeans in Morocco
shrugged their shoulders : a gesture forced upon
the understanding Europeans in Morocco by that
most unyielding of all sultans whom we name
Experience. It is not given to us to know anything
f pale Lalla R'kia's attitude during this breathing
pace. Certainly the Circassian summer of her vigour
nd beauty had waned or ever the Wazeer's death
brought about her meteor-like ascent as an indirect
ling power. One remembers regretfully the ener-

254 MOROCCO

vating, cloying insistence of hareem influences and
ties ; one learns of the extravagant importation of
sweets, silk stuffs and gauds, and perforce one sighs
adieu to the woman behind the Parasol, with her
subtle, conflicting strain of blood other than that of
those about her.

(Lalla R'kia died last year.)

Speaking metaphorically, his Shareefian Majesty
Abd el Aziz reappeared on the arm of a commercial
agent, a French Israelite with a genius for the
"placing" of imported commodities. Allah's Chosen
had been initiated into the select manias of Europe,
and become addicted to golfing, the use of the camera,
the bicycle, and other less pretty pastimes from the
West. Deftness and alert curiosity came to him from
his beautiful slave-born mother, and there were
Christians who judged him accordingly an enlightened
young man.

Two other things happened. The tiger, which
lives still and is the essence, the fibre of the decadent
Moorish people, began to snarl ominously. The
beast is doubtless well-nigh spent, but yet lives, and
will live, while Moors walk the earth. And he
snarled, as was to be expected, at sight of the infidel
with his devil-sent picture-machines in the Sacred
Presence. Other happenings are described in a letter
received by the writer from Marrakish at this time :

" As by this time even you in Tangier will have
gathered, the Sultan has entirely put aside his very
short-lived efforts to grapple seriously with the present
critical situation. The Sus is ablaze with insurrec-
tion ; pillage and general lawlessness are very ripe in
all parts of the country ; Mequinez is now the home

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 255

of quite a little colony of disaffected powers, Sheikhs,
and men with followings, headed by the incorrigible
and crafty One-Eyed One, Moulai Mohammed ; the
country about Fez is openly in arms, its people frankly
indifferent to the Sultan's authority ; the Filalis, the
Sultan's own folk, in the Tafilet oases, are near the
end of their tether, and will probably not long be
withheld from suicidal attacks upon the French, unless
the Sultan's promise to move the Court to Fez is
fulfilled. And of that there is no sign at present,
affairs of State being left to wait upon the affairs of
Parisian shop-keepers. The bicycle and the camera
(so deadly offensive to the best and most solid among
Moorish people) are still delights, but are only
prevented from palling upon the sacred palate by
Deing served sandwich -wise camera, bicycle and
nechanical toys as bread, a circus, and some Paris
lancing-girls, the savoury essence of the dish. It is a
;orry business, not only making for the very reverse
)f the personal enlightenment your friends so naively
inlarge upon, but stirring up in the Moors who know
ill the drowsy savagery and fanatical bitterness of
vhich they are capable at this stage of their decline.

urther, whilst effectually preventing the Sultan from
ttending to the finances or administration of the
ountry, even in the most perfunctory manner, it sets
ip in him an unending thirst for money, and provides

deep channel for the dissipation of funds ; deep, I
lean, when one considers the very limited nature of

e supply."

But commercial agents continued to press upon
young Sultan the latest and most expensive of
lectrical and other toys, and those far-seeing gentle-

256 MOROCCO

men the newspaper correspondents bade Europe
take note of the remarkable enlightenment and
progressive wisdom of the ruler of Morocco, as
evidenced by his interest in motor cars and Broad-
wood pianos.

A mission was sent to England from the Sultan's
Court, headed by Kaid Meheddi el Mennebhi (now
Minister of War and prime favourite), a man of lowly
origin and great personal ambition. And here certain
remarks fall to be made as a duty, a thankless and un-
pleasant task, but a duty which the writer cannot bring
himself to shirk. Mennebhi was received in England
with every possible courtesy as the ambassador of the
Sultan of Morocco ; and that, no doubt, was as it shoul<
be. But certain tributes were paid to him which neve
should have been paid, though the visitor had been
the young Sultan himself. News of these things wen
abroad throughout Morocco, and were gossiped ove
by the ignorant at every city gate, inevitable deduc
tions being drawn therefrom, the humiliating nature
of which can, perhaps, only be realised by men who
have lived in Oriental countries ; certainly the infer
ences drawn were not such as the British Governmen
would have cared to have drawn, the impression
produced was one which England ought never to
have produced in Morocco.

Mennebhi was met on landing by the highes
officers of the Court of St James's, who were induced
to stand aside and turn their backs whilst carriage,
conveying Mennebhi's slave-women were driven pas
them ; slave women whom any street idler in
Marrakish has seen many times. A Moor woul<
never dream of taking his wives abroad. Whei
received at Court by the King and Queen of Britain

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 257

the Sovereigns of the greatest Empire in the world,

the newly-risen Mennebhi was allowed to appear in

his slippers with the hood of his djellab raised. Small

matters these, the stay-at-home Britisher may say.

Let him ask any British officer who has served in

India, and learn just what these small matters mean.

Let him consider that Mennebhi would never venture

to enter the apartments of his own scribe in Morocco

in such a guise. Let him inquire as to the manner in

which the accredited representatives of European

monarchs are received at the Moorish Court. Let him

icture a British Ambassador being received in audience

t Potsdam with a cigar in his mouth, his coat collar

urned up, and his hat on his head. And finally, let

im bear in mind that no European can realise quite

ully how much these things weigh with Orientals.

But the writer would not be understood to argue
hat no advantage was taken of the young Sultan's
eaning towards things European, save by commercial
,gents, and, according to this month's reports from
ez, the pushfulness of at least one gentleman whose
raining and position should have placed him above
uch mercenary trafficking. The British Government
represented in Morocco by a Minister whose heart
in his work, and whose heart is thoroughly kind
nd good. The late Sir John Drummond Hay may
ave been more feared than is Sir Arthur Nicolson,
ut he certainly was not more generally respected and
dmired in Morocco. And Sir Arthur Nicolson has
ell earned his high standing. His influence has
en entirely for good, for progress and for humanity, in
orocco ; and all credit is due to him for his strenuous
fforts to ameliorate the conditions under which the
oorish people live and are oppressed. The mitiga-

258 MOROCCO

tion of prison horrors, the recent attempt to establish
taxation upon a basis of something like fairness and
justice these things, and not at all his unfortunate
and indiscreet trifling with the toys of civilisation, are
what the Sultan and all right-minded men have to
thank Sir Arthur Nicolson for. It may well be that,
like a good many other people, our Minister was a
little deceived by the successes of the toy-selling
gentry, and that in consequence his influence made
for progress of a somewhat too rapid and premature
description. But the writer will not assert it, and, in;
any case, it were an error on the generous side, and a
far remove from the dangerous indiscretions of various;
European travellers and adventurers in Morocco, j
which have done much toward fanning, if not lighting,
the present blaze of insurrection in Sunset Land.!
Our Minister in Morocco has served Britain as the
greatest Power of civilisation should be served, and he
has been backed by a remarkable amount of ignorance
and indifference in England.

Having said so much, the writer may add that,
whether or not the Moors as a people are ripe for th<
introduction of reforms in their administration upoi
the European plan, it is quite certain that they do not
desire them, and that their officials, whilst servants oi
an independent Moorish Government, will not permit
these reforms to make either for honesty of admini;
tration, for the profit of the Shareefian treasury, or foi
the benefit of unofficial Moorish subjects. This i<
quite certain. Just, equitable and honest taxation j
for example, may, with great care and unceasini
vigilance, be introduced into an Indian Native statej
because of that great and powerful institution whicl
is called the Government of India. It cannot be introl

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 259

duced into Moorish-governed Morocco, for in Morocco
there is no British Raj to be appealed to. The
British Resident at the most entirely exemplary Native
ourt in all India would understand this at a glance,
ithal, one has only cordial sympathy and admiration
or those men who strive against great odds to bring
bout such reforms, even in Morocco. That is the
rt that Britain has been officially playing, through
er Minister, in Morocco. But Moors do not resent
hese things ; they merely shrug their shoulders,
hey bitterly resent the motor cars, however, and the
ultan's daily chaffering and companionship with
uropeans at his Court, with Europeans of no official
'.|tanding and with purely selfish ends to serve.

When at length the Sultan's long-promised
moval of his Court from far south-western
arrakish to north-eastern Fez did take place, a
mporary improvement, a sort of waiting calm, set
Moors and Christians alike, as it were, stepped
ack to study the effect. The presence of the Court
|ieans the presence of the Shareefian army, the only
dy of regulars in Morocco. All sorts and con-
tions of law-breakers, robbers and revolutionaries,
own first impatient, then sceptical, and finally
solently unbelieving in the matter of the promised
tablishment of the Court at Fez, were now pre-
red to bow the knee, to respond in peace to the
ly sort of authority which is real in Morocco ; the
ing, visible force represented by the person of a
Itan surrounded by his army. Peace was firmly
tablished, and the young Sultan was a truly great
d enlightened ruler, pronounced the optimistic
ropean observers and the surface rumour-gleaning
wspaper correspondents. The commercial agents

260 MOROCCO

set to work with redoubled ardour, and vied with
one another in their performances before the Lord
of the Faithful. One induced the young man to
use European saddlery in public ; straightway another
led the monarch to appear in English riding-boots ;
then both were outdone by a gentleman who pre-
vailed upon Abd el Aziz to be photographed in the
act of shaking hands with him in familiar European
fashion. All these matters, and many more glaring
indiscretions, went to form the subject of city-gate
gossip, and were duly embroidered and enlarged
upon by market-place idlers, who, when doubted,
would point to some small real move in the direction
of reform, some little administrative improvement
urged upon the Sultan and actually brought about
by gentlemen of the Foreign Legations, who had no
concern whatever with the trading mountebanks then j
lining their pockets at Court.

" What ? You don't believe that our Lord is ii
league with the Nazarenes ? You doubt me when
tell you that he is forsaking Islam for the faith of th<
pig-eaters ? Well, what do you say to this ord<
about taxation, then straight from the Bashadoi
of the infidels, b' Allah ! See for yourself!"

The Sultan's presence was positively weakening ,
his authority, sapping the adherence of his people, by i,
reason that it made his daily doings and associations!
apparent ; and that was a state of affairs without!,
precedent in Moorish history. The obvious,
European comment upon this, of course, is that itj
showed the hopeless bigotry and fanaticism of theL
Moors. In speaking to the writer of these lines
intelligent Moor answered that comment in this wise :-H,

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 261

"Can you deny that the best class of Moors,
mentally, morally and physically, are those who de-
cline to have any dealings with foreigners and infidels ? "

For the writer's part, he knew too much of
Morocco to deny this. " Are not the lowest and
most worthless among Moors those of the coast towns
who have daily intercourse with the Nazarenes ? "
The writer was bound to admit it. " Do you not
always mistrust a Moor you do not know if he
has any words of English, or shows any familiarity
with European customs ? " The writer knew that
such a Moor would not even be engaged as a
groom by a European who knew anything of life in
Morocco.

The intelligent Moor feels instinctively that when
European methods and customs are introduced into
Morocco, when the country is thrown open to
European industry and speculation, it will cease to be
the independent Empire of the Faithful. And he is
right. There remains a great deal to be said, an
endless amount to be written, on the side of Europe
and civilisation. But, so far, the Moor is right.
And, that being so, it should be easy to understand
that what Europe calls savage fanaticism and bigotry

^ j is to him no more than the patriotism of self-preserva-
tion, the piety of living faith in his religion. Some
of us, respectable, once-a-week Christians, are apt to
forget what a real, living, every-day, life and death

loa jfaith is that of Islam to its followers.

It has been said that these doings of the young
ultan, which earned him so many good-humoured,

3 a fistupid pats on the back from journalists whose views

e; 'l"un in stereotyped and traditional grooves, became

262 MOROCCO

the common talk of the most remote soks and city
gates. They presently reached the ears of a Moor
named Jellali of Zarahun, known to some as Omar
Zarzouni, a man of peasant origin, yet a fellow of
some parts, and one who had seen more of the world
than the most of his fellows. He had travelled through
a large part of Northern Africa afoot, and in the
course of time had become a very accomplished
conjurer, a master of legerdemain, and, from the
Moorish standpoint, of the arts of magic. Now, from
the magician to the saint is no great step in Morocco,
and to the saint all things are possible. Genealogical
trees are carried in men's minds instead of upon
parchment in Sunset Land, and Shareefs or descend-
ants of the Prophet are at least numerous as
one-eyed men, which is to say, that one may find
them in every city street and in every village. But
Jellali, or Omar, was a man of some parts, and had
ambition. To collect battered floos by the aid of a
green flag and a couple of reed-players was no career
for him. He fancied he had it in him to be a leader
of men, and, being the observant fellow he was, he
realised that he must have a cause and a war-cry if
he were to succeed in this capacity. So Jellali
pondered these things among the hills, surrounded
by a handful of simple Berbers, by whom his juggling
tricks were regarded as evidences of his supernatural
powers as a magician, and proofs of his remarkable
sanctity as a f keeh and a holy man.

Then inspiration came to this adventurer, and,
seated with saintly humility upon a small ass, he rode
forth among the cave-dwelling mountaineers, a fully-
equipped prophet with a fine, stirring watchword :
" Down with the Nazarenes ! Morocco for the Faith-

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 263

+

full Down with the renegade mock Sultan, who
seeks to give us over to the infidels ! " Ba Hamara,
or Father of the She-A$s, they called him then ; and
the hardy mountain men, unchanged since the days of
their forebears, who fought to stem the Arab invasion
of their hills a thousand years ago, rallied about him
with enthusiasm, while the story-tellers among them,
obeying their primitive instincts instincts not yet
defunct in Clapton began forthwith to weave about
their leader's head a halo of legend and romance, even
as Christians, early and late, have done in other lands.
The touch of his hands would turn'bullets aside from
the persons of his adherents. He could draw money
from out the air. And so on, in ever-increasing
volume and picturesqueness, till one day :

" He is the fore-runner of the veritable Mahdi.
He will lead us into Fez, and discover the Mahdi's
sword of flame in a pillar of the Karueen. The Master
of the Hour will appear ; the infidels will be driven
into the sea, and the flag of Islam will rule the world ! "

The Father of the She-Ass did not forget the man
who first set this glory upon his head : be sure that
inspired soul was well rewarded. And the following
grew apace. Still, it was hardly the sort of following
by which capital cities are sacked and monarchs
dethroned. " After allour Lord, the Lofty Portal,
is still his father's son may Allah have pardoned
him! and through him the Child of the Prophet,"
said the stolid tillers of the valleys. (They have not
that repute, yet history proves the Moors to have
been ever the most enduringly loyal subjects, in so
far as avoiding revolution makes men loyal, even

264 MOROCCO

under the most barbarously tyrannical rulers. The
throne is not much to your orthodox Moor, but the
Sultan is Khaleef, and the Khaleef is the Child of
Mohammed, and acknowledged Lord of all the Faith-
ful. (Turkey's present claim to the Khaleefate is no
more recognised by Moors than it is by genealogical
students ; temporal power alone supports it.)

Readers of newspapers in Europe who have picked
out certain facts from among the gloriously inaccurate,
but frequently picturesque, reports from Morocco, have
learned how at this stage fortune favoured the self-
made Saint of the She-Ass. An ignorant mountaineer
(quite possibly a follower of Ba Hamdra's), walking
through Fez one day, raised his gun, fired at an English-
man he had never before set eyes upon, and killed
him. The mountain man fled at once to the most
venerated sanctuary in all Morocco ; he took refuge
among the sacred pillars of the Karueen, where,
according to all the traditions of a thousand years, his
person was as safe and inviolable as that of his Lord
beneath the Shareefian Parasol.

There is no doubt in the minds of men who know
as to who influenced the young Sultan in the daring,
unprecedented step he then took. Besides Kaid Sir
Harry Maclean (whose experience in the country
would never have permitted of his advising the course
adopted), another countryman of the murdered mis-
sionary was with the Sultan, and he has made no
secret of the part he played. A wise and altogether
good part, the average Englishman might say : and
the average Englishman might be partly wrong. By
the Sultan's order, carried out in dumb amazement by
men not given to questioning, the fanatic murderer
was dragged from sanctuary, flogged round the town,

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 265

and publicly executed directly after Mr Cooper suc-
cumbed to his injuries.

" If only the thing had been done Moslem fashion,
if private instructions had been issued to prevent the
man's escape, and then, a few weeks later, he had
been flung into prison, having been lured from
sanctuary by stratagem, and subsequently executed
as much as you like ! " sighed an elderly, peace-loving
fkeeh in Tangier to the writer of these lines, in
December. " But to drag a Believer out of sanctuary,
at the bidding of beardless Nazarenes, for for killing
a ha h'm pardon a Nazarene ! Ih-yeh,
but that was a bitter bad dealing for our Lord the
Sultan."

You may be very sure it was not in any such mild
strain as this that Ba Hamara commented to his
following upon the event, in the Berber fastnesses to
the south-east of Fez. No other man in Morocco
could have served the Pretender's cause quite so well
and opportunely as Moulai Abd el Aziz and his
Christian advisers had served it, in dragging out from
sanctuary the murderer of the unfortunate Mr Cooper.
From far outlying kasbahs and from villages at his
feet, from every part of the turbulent south-east, and
from the exacerbated villages of the Tuat oases
I where men were already stung to madness, deliberately,
J or unwittingly, by the French from over the border
| with their "creeping" policy of mild aggression,
liudicial punitive measures, and insistent advance
>ber-minded Moors from the very gate of Fez itself,
;hey flocked about the standard of the man who
:ried: "Down with the Christians, and down with

266 MOROCCO

the renegade Sultan who would sacrifice you all to
the Kaffirs, sons of burnt Kaffirs ! "

Fluent newspaper correspondents in Tangier
hotels, and their yet more fluent colleagues in Madrid
and Paris, have told the world much of what followed,
and more that did not follow. One of them, a few
days ago, told the readers of a great London daily that
certain people European ladies, no less, among them
had left Fez on January loth and arrived safely in
Tangier on January i2th, a feat that would have
puzzled the owner of seven-leagued boots to accom-
plish, even though summer suns had made all boggy
ways passable in Morocco ; a thrice impossible
performance, to speak plainly. Not loyalty, nor force
of arms, nor statesmanship, nor any other such attri-
bute of Royalty saved his Shareefian Majesty from
ignominious defeat, though it is true that even Ba
Hamara could not cut off the water supply of Fez, as
the newspapers said he did. Only absence of
discipline, lack of cohesion, and consequent vacillation
among Ba Hamara's following preserved to Abd el
Aziz his Parasol, after that fierce, before-dawn attack
in the Ulad Taher valley. The followers of the Father
of the She- Ass lacked singleness of purpose, and so,
when the Shareefian troops followed them up with
weapons of precision, they were mown down thickly
between the mud walls of a kasbah, and many gory
heads were carried off to decorate the gates of Fez.

" And that's the end of the Pretender," said the
Europeans in Tangier. " The whole thing has been
tremendously exaggerated, of course," said numerous
official residents in Tangier to the writer of these lines
before Christmas ; " and now you will see that this is
the end of it." Even the favourably placed and

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 267

generally well-informed Times correspondent, then
actually in Fez, wrote :

" Here in Fez, where a certain amount of mystery
surrounded his name (the Pretender's name), and
where the more superstitious of the population were
half inclined to believe in his divine mission, his
reputation is demolished, and he is the laughing-stock
of the city. It needs only one look at the ghastly
heads hanging on the city gate, dripping in the drizz-
ling rain, to persuade the people that Moulai Abd el
Aziz is their real lord and master."

The writer of this article, going to native sources
for his information, formed a different impression, and,
in the Pall Mall Gazette, ventured to " croak" once
more to the effect that Ba Hamara himself was scot-
free in the mountains, and had shown himself to be
the sort of man that would be heard of again. Author-
ities whom the writer could not doubt had shown him
what a touch-and-go chance the whole affair had been,
and that hundreds of the solid, conservative class of
Moors in Fez, so far from viewing the situation with
the loyal meekness insisted on by the Times cor-
respondent, were ready and anxious to forsake their
" real lord and master " the moment they thought the
thing could be done with safety.

The newspaper-reading world knows now what
happened ; how quickly the Father of the She-Ass
rallied his following and gained a distinct victory over
the Sultan's troops. (A letter sent the writer from
Fez says : "Had Ba Hamara followed up that success
nothing could have saved the Sultan.") And then
came the news that Fez was practically besieged by

268 MOROCCO

the pretender. As a fact it was not quite so. Ba
Hamara was five hours distant from the capital, and
his following were dispersing to their homes and
quarrelling over booty already gained. But the
victory was undeniable and its moral effect great.
Those European companions of the Sultan whose
presence most offended orthodox Moors left Fez
now ; but they left it some months too late for the
good of the young Sultan's standing. Under date
January 2nd, a correspondent, whose intimate know-
ledge and life-long experience of Moorish people and
affairs is unequalled, addressed the present writer from
Tangier as follows :

" The Sultan's present urgent danger lies in the
antagonism awakened by his English advisers and as-
sociates, his assumption of their dress, amusements and
familiarities all inconsistent with his position. If,
as is generally believed, Ba Hamara is backed by
French assistance, 1 he will not declare a Jehad as the
Times correspondent suggests. In Fez they are short
of provisions, and, according to my Moorish informants,
the populace is ill-affected ; a most ominous condition
of affairs. Yet it is still believed by the well-
informed that the Sultan may weather the storm. I
hope he may, for his sake and that of the country.
He will have to cut his European aspirations and
frivolities off by the board if he is to hold his own
unaided by Europe. The French here are jubilant,
of course ; the English all depressed. The improvi-

1 In the light of the latest news regarding a French protectorate
in Morocco, I would specially draw attention to this. It is now
quite certain that the Pretender did receive some European assist-
ance. It is equally certain that, knowingly or not, he played France's
own game to the great and signal advantage of France. A. J. D.

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 269

dence of the Sultan and his advisers, and the indiscre-
tions of some of the foreigners about his person,
seem beyond belief. Still, the extent of the late
disasters has been wildly exaggerated. The truth
probably is that the Sultan's troops, being disaffected,
simply abandoned arms and ammunition, and either
went over to the insurgents (I know that some took
this course) or dribbled back to Fez with wild tales of
imaginary slaughter. Should Ba Hamara succeed,
and Abd el Aziz be dethroned, either his brother,
Moulai Mohammed (El Aour), will be proclaimed, or
Moulai Mohammed, an uncle of Abd el Aziz, and a
much better choice, will be selected, in which case
affairs would speedily settle down for a time in the old
grooves. The real danger is that when the Jebala are
once up they may run amuck in despite of all efforts
to restrain them; then we should sup full on horrors."

A week later, the same correspondent, with in-
numerable native and foreign sources of information
open to him, wrote as follows :

" The Ba Hamara rising not having yielded
immediate results, a palace revolution has been con-
certed (Europe, I gather, calls it a shrewd stroke of
policy on the Sultan's part, a comment which reads
like irony) to secure the transfer of power from
Moulai Abd el Aziz to Moulai Mohammed. The
former has been constrained to install his long-
imprisoned brother as his Khaleefa, and this has
given rise to the most curious journalistic rumours,
such as that the Pretender impersonated Moulai
Mohammed, and so forth. The next step may come
sooner or later, but I know from native officials here

270 MOROCCO

that they are hourly expecting to hear from Fez that
the actual transfer has been effected and that Moulai
Mohammed reigns.

" The French cannot conceal their eager anxiety
for the success of Moulai Mohammed and the down-
fall of Abd el Aziz, and they assert openly that the
English are being run out, and that French influence
will soon be all-powerful. They point to Mr Harris
and the various English agents, travellers, ad-
venturers and employes of the Court who have been
frightened away from Fez after their presence, or at
least the presence of the independent and influential
among them, had done the Sultan such incalculable
harm. To be sure, no one suspects them of deliber-
ately doing harm, but they have done it none the less,
and that chiefly by reason of their apparent inability
to grasp or conform to the Oriental ideas of dignity.
The Oriental will steal and lie, and yet demean him-
self like a prince ; whilst your possibly quite honest
Westerner too often degenerates into caddish licence
and familiarity. It is now reported here that one of
the most prominent among these doubtless uninten-
tional offenders presented large orders on the Tangier
Custom-house, on his return here from the capital, in
payment for various orders he had obtained from the
Sultan for electric appointments and so forth,
amounting altogether to many thousands of dollars.
The Moors say 80,000. Even if we strike off the
last cypher it seems too large a sum for credence.
The fact remains patent to all, however, that the
Imperial treasury has been subjected to a depletion
quite without precedent. It grieves and worries us
that the English should have had any hand in such a
sorry business."

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 271

Later again, under date, Tangier, January iQth, the
same informant cabled to the writer these words :

.

I

" TANGIER, January

The situation is improving. So far only unim-
portant skirmishes between outlying scouts of the
Shareefian army and the Pretender's force have taken
place ; but the Sultan is acting with great caution, and
my opinion now is that he will weather the storm.
You know the state of the roads in the interior at this
season. That has materially hampered both forces,
but more particularly the Sultan's, because his is the
moving party. The local troubles in the neighbour-
hood of Tangier have settled down. The general
opinion here is that Mr Harris was ill-advised to take
the part he did, because Christian interference is very
xasperating to the Moors at any time ; more so just
now than ever, and more when coming from Mr
Harris, by reason of the tales of his relations with
the Sultan/'

Mr Walter B. Harris, the correspondent of the
Times in Morocco, in writing to that journal, has
said :

I merely wish to contradict the impression, which
ippears to be general, that I am one of those who
| have brought the Sultan of Morocco into his present
unfortunate position by inspiring him with European
jideas. No one has deprecated these ideas, or the
[extravagance they entailed, more strongly than I
[have."

The Paris correspondent of the Times writes to his
ditor that " It is difficult to say by whom the ground-

272 MOROCCO

less accusation brought against your Tangier
correspondent of having given the Sultan of Morocco
evil counsel was originally started." It is more
difficult for those who know Morocco to guess what
may be the grounds for the Times Paris corre-
spondent's statements, or what he can possibly know
about the influence of Mr Walter Harris in Fez. To
accuse a man of giving evil counsel is tantamount to
charging him with deliberate wrong-doing, and Mr
Harris is by no means in need of defence from such
accusations as that. But he himself must be perfectly
aware that his residence at the Moorish Court, his
constant association with the Sultan, their being
photographed together, and so forth, have done a
great deal towards inflaming the hearts of the orthodox
Moors against their ruler, his foreign friends, and his
progressive policy, which latter is naturally and rightly
enough traced to the foreigners. The present writer
has ample reason for personally admiring and respect-
ing Mr Harris as an intrepid traveller and a most
entertaining writer, but neither this nor any other
consideration could blind the writer to the fact that
Mr Harris's recent familiar daily intercourse and
dealings with the young Sultan have helped materially
to weaken the latter's hold upon his people, to rouse
their jealous resentment, and to exasperate their
religious feelings. Further, these things have helped
more firmly to establish a conviction which is very
generally held among native politicians, and which
Mr Harris himself has written of to the Times in
these words :

"The Moors are confident, after what passed/
between Mennebhi, who was in London last year as

MOROCCO, MOORS AND POWERS 273

Moorish Ambassador, and Lord Lansdowne, that in
case of necessity England cannot refuse to give armed
assistance to Moulai Abd el Aziz. It is impossible to
disabuse them of this idea, as they lay the entire
responsibility for the rebellion at England's door, for
fostering European ideas, and introducing Christians
into the Court."

Not many of the Christians introduced at the
Moorish Court were quite so prominent there as to be
in familiar daily intercourse with the young Sultan,
sharing his amusements, being photographed by and
ith him, and otherwise scandalising the Faithful, as
Mr Harris did, all, no doubt, with the most innocent
intentions. The common report in Tangier was that
Mr Harris had been badly frightened by the state of
things in Fez, and fled to Tangier as soon as danger
menaced the Court at which he had been a guest.
Those who have the pleasure of knowing the gentle-
stlman in question, those, particularly, who have read
er|his Tafilet, that fascinating record of one of the
pluckiest pieces of exploration ever undertaken by a
.uropean, will not be imposed upon by so ill-natured
rumour as this ; but they, and others, will believe,
js e|ivith reason, that Mr Harris left the Moorish Court
ie ir because it was realised, unfortunately somewhat late in
peiihe day, that his presence there seriously aggravated
ifhe difficulties of the Sultan's position.

" The Moors are confident that in case of necessity
ngland cannot refuse to give armed assistance."

According to his telegraphic report in the Times
f January i6th, Mr Harris was himself giving
;ar^|.rmed assistance to one of two warring tribes in the

s

274 MOROCCO

vicinity of Tangier. This would scarcely help to
" disabuse" the minds of the Moors in the matter of
their confident reliance upon English assistance in
case of need. It would seem that out of the good-
ness of his heart, and from a strong love of romance,
Mr Harris continues even in Tangier, as it were by
implication, to give dangerous pledges.

" The French here are jubilant, of course."

" The French here cannot conceal their eager
anxiety for the success of Moulai Mohammed and
the downfall of Abd el Aziz."

"The French Minister here has made representa-
tions'to Hadj Mohammed Torres, the Sultan's Foreign
Minister, to the effect that if the troubles near here
are renewed French intervention would be justified."

" The Moors are confident that in case of necessity
England cannot refuse to give armed assistance."

These are serious words from the best-informed
sources. They demand the serious consideration of
European statesmen. The European nations most
intimately concerned are England and France.
There is not the slightest doubt that the whole matter
of the Moorish situation receives, and has received
without intermission for years past, the very closest
attention on the Quai d'Orsay. The past has not
proven that Downing Street is as keenly alive to the
issues at stake, and, however capable we may be of;
making up at the last moment for our singular and
incorrigible unreadiness, it is certainly high time now
that the Power which arms Gibraltar should have]
formulated a very definite policy with regard to future?
action in, for and about the land of the Moors.

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 1

HAD] ABD EL KAREEM hitched up his
flowing draperies and walked down the jetty
with me, when I was leaving Tangier the other day
for " London Country." We had been discussing the
situation in which the young Sultan of Morocco finds
himself to-day, and Abd el Kareem thoughtfully
combed his white beard with three delicate yellow
fingers as he walked. We parted at the head of the
steps, where my boat waited. The fingers of our
right hands met, and then, as the gracious habit of his
people is, the Hadj raised his hand to his lips.

" And what is your last word about the outlook for
Morocco, Hadj ? " I asked. The long beard moved
to a heavy sigh, the cashmere-covered shoulders of the
old gentleman rose in melancholy deprecation, and :

" Ihyeh'llah ! " quoth he. <( The page of Allah's
book on which is written c End ' against the Empire
of our Lord at Fez draws very near to reading. All
that slaves (men) may do to hasten on that reading
|i slaves are doing ! "

" Such as, particularly?" The Jew boatmen
below were patient, though their gunwale scraped and
I bumped the jetty stairs with every wave.

" Ihyeh the aggression of the Fransawis (French)
[and the indiscretion of the Ingleezi (English), and
Ihyeh, Friend, thou knowest well what ails mine own
1 Fortnightly Review ', June 1903.
2/5

276 MOROCCO

people. I say nothing of the mummeries at Court ;
but I say that a good bundle of faggots, well bound,
will float a laden ass across a river, whilst, cut the
faggots apart, let them float separately, and they will
not bear a chicken to safety. We are not bound one
to another in this my El Moghreb; there be many
Nazarenes whose business and pleasure it is to widen
our divisions, and upon what is the Empire to float ?
Ihyeh B'ism Illah ! It is true that only that which is
written can be. Good be with ye ! "

And so I left him still thoughtfully combing his
beard. And in Gibraltar that evening I began my
perusal of the Marquis de Segonzac's remarkable new
book, Voyages au Maroc, with its startling preface by
M. Etienne, deputy for Oran, leader of the Colonial
party, and Vice-President of the Chamber of Deputies.
"The aggression of the Fransawis, and the in-
discretion of the Ingleezi," I quoted, as I turned the
first page of this outspoken piece of Chauvinism.

Broadly speaking, the British public care little and
know less about Moorish affairs ; and in this we differ
greatly from our neighbours across the Channel. Yet
the most powerful European Minister who ever held
sway in Morocco represented the Court of St James
there ; yet the most strategically valuable port in
Morocco was once held and occupied by Britain ; yet
England's greatest naval leader held that Tangier
was of even greater importance to the Power that
looked to rule the seas than Gibraltar; yet the
strength and importance of Britain's position at the
gate of the Mediterranean, the highway to the East,
depends very largely upon the neutrality of the strip
of littoral facing Gibraltar from Melilla to Cape
Spartel. It is scarcely fanciful to suppose that the day!

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 277

will come when the fertile north-western shoulder of
Africa, lying as it does, practically within heavy gun
range of southern Spain and Gibraltar, commanding
as it does the all-important maritime gate to the East,
will prove of greater value to some European Power
than could the whole of Southern Africa, with its
blood-stained miles .of veldt and its fortune-bearing
centres of mining industry. But at present the public
that is stirred by the words Empire and Imperialism
is scarcely more to be touched by mention of Morocco
than by reference to remote centres of China ; though,
according to more than one student of world politics,
we shall presently have urgent reason to concern our-
selves as much with one as with the other. The
Extreme West (in the Mohammedan sense) and the
Far East have many points in common, besides the
fact that both are as inimical to Christendom as water
is to fire.

But even in England, to-day, the most casual
reader of newspapers has heard that France is
periodically accused, by travellers, by students of
foreign polities, and by Moorish kaids in far south-
eastern settlements, of aggression in Morocco. There
have even been solemn questions in the House of
Commons, followed by equally solemn and soothing
replies. And, if one excepts the handful of Europeans
who really know Morocco, it may be said that the
civilised world has, without afterthought, accepted as
final France's reiterated assurances that her only
desire is to maintain that mysterious myth, the status
quo in Morocco, and to keep peace and order within
her Algerian frontier, where it marches with the borders
of the realm of the Lofty Portal, Moulai Abd el Aziz IV.
of El Moghreb. True, we were informed in 1901 that

278 MOROCCO

France had, with never a by your leave, extended her
Algerian frontier across a belt of Moorish territory,
two hundred kilometres wide ; but observant English
readers thought of the north-west frontier of British
India and were silent, whilst the unobservant
majority, to whom Figuig, Igli, and Ain Sefra were
as one, and the caravan trade route from Timbuctoo a
mere relic of the Haroun el Rascheed myth, accepted
the news with their breakfast rolls, and passed on to
the perusal of the stock and share list and the latest
betting. The Quai d'Orsay, as it might have been
Albion at her most perfidious, spoke deprecatingly of
the necessity of defining her Algerian frontier more
clearly, and sighed under the burden the white man's
burden of maintaining peace among the turbulent
tribes of the Tuat. "We desire only to assist his
Shareefian Majesty in the maintenance of the status
quo in Morocco. That is the Moorish interest which
France, in common with all other civilised Powers
concerned, must continue to serve, with patience and
loyalty. England, the perfidious, may well have
other schemes afoot see else the favour shown her
people at the Moorish Court France at least is dis-
interested and single-minded as a child here."

I recalled these things as I opened the Marquis de
Segonzac's book, and remembered being jeered at for
an alarmist for having ventured to assert and re-assert
in the past that France desired much beyond the
maintenance of the status quo in Morocco. I found
that the Marquis kept tolerably clear of politics in his
very interesting, if unsatisfying, book. I gathered
that he had gleaned a great deal of highly useful
information on his travels for the French Foreign
Office. At least, I imagine that he gleaned for the

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 279

French Foreign Office, and that for these reasons : I
know that he did travel over unfrequented ways ; I
am practically certain that he obtained much first-
hand information of a rare sort : I satisfied myself by
perusal of his book that he had not dispensed his
gleanings to the reading public. Rather had he
given out to the public just such husks and chaff, such
winnowings of a rich crop as may be gathered by the
casual observer in Christian-influenced Tangier. But,
as has been indicated, the preface to this book (this
book which will interest students of Morocco rather
by reason of the reserve of knowledge it suggests
than of the information it imparts) was written by the
Deputy for Oran, a French politician whose influence
in Algeria and whose very prominent position in
the Chamber of Deputies gives weight to his words.
The reserve of the book is remarkable severely
diplomatic. The outspoken frankness of its authori-
tative preface is a good key with which to open doors
left closed by the Marquis de Segonzac. One has
thought of the Marquis de Segonzac as a young
gentleman more remarkable for adventurous daring
than for discretion or diplomacy ; but in this book he
appears a veritable Machiavelli beside the writer of
his preface, who heads the Colonial party in Paris.
Says M. Etienne of the author of these Voyages au
Maroc :

" The author makes it a rule not to draw political
conclusions. But he has chosen Morocco for the
iscene of his explorations, feeling that the knowledge
| of that country is of the first importance to France ;
md it is this which gives his work its particular
[interest. Upon the solution of the Morocco question

280 MOROCCO

depends the future of France." (The italics are mine.)
" There is no question here of one of those rich and
more or less desirable countries which it is possible to
divide. The enormous sacrifices which France has
made in Algeria and Tunis will be made worthless if
this solution is not in conformity with French interests
and rights. France holds these rights from Bugeaud,
and Lamoriciere, from her army of Africa, and from
her Algerian colonists. What other European Power
can show similar rights ? "

To judge from all her official assurances to the
rest of Europe, France would have us believe that
the vague rights referred to here are the privileges of
helping the Sultan to maintain the status quo in
Morocco, and keeping the peace on the Moorish-
Algerian frontier ! But even the careless English
newspaper reader could hardly be asked to accept
such suggestions in the light of a passage like the
following :

"Apart from the question of the Straits of
Gibraltar, which alone is truly international, France
cannot divide Morocco with anyone" (English readers
are requested to give these italicised words their
thoughtful consideration, bearing in mind the nature
of the authority behind them.) " From the political
point of view the present position of France in
Morocco is equivalent to the efforts of seventy years
nullified. From the economical point of view
Algeria is impoverished by the development on its
flank of a country whose climate and products are
similar, whilst it is very much more fertile. Finally,
from the Mussulman point of view, Islam in Northern

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 281

Africa, escaping from our sphere of influence, French
possessions may catch fire all at once, as the Algerian
forests are kindled by the siroccos of summer, by
reason of a European Power endeavouring to re-
commence the crusade of Christianity against the
Mussulmans, and thus putting its foot upon an
ant-heap. Such is the future which awaits us if we
admit the establishment beside us of any European
neighbour."

Is not that fine, and frank, and French ? And how
well M. Etienne manages his warning dig at Britain
the perfidious in connection with crusades and ant-
heaps ! That is his comment upon Britain's policy at
the Moorish Court since the death of Regent Wazeer
Ba Hamed : a policy which for the first time in
several years has suggested, not a definite purpose,
but a degree of wakefulness which is better than
absolute indifference. "If we admit the establish-
ment beside us " France's own establishment there
is here taken as a matter of course. Thus airily does
M. Etienne repudiate and brush aside all France's
official assurances regarding her policy in Morocco
during the past decade.

And now let us consider the grounds upon which the
Deputy for Oran bases his claims for France in Morocco.
It will be found that if the claims are judged daring,

e only word left to apply to the grounds upon which

ey are based will be " insolent ! "

"It is not only that Morocco does not present in
my way for the other Powers the same interest as for
but one may say without paradox that their
'.nterest, well understood, is to oppose nothing to our

282 MOROCCO

preponderance. Several foreign writers who are
above suspicion have expressed this sentiment plainly
again and again, and if their language has somewhat
changed of late we have only our weakness and
timidity to blame. What in effect do the Powers
want ? Peace and the security which will permit
them to develop their commerce, and in a probably
not distant future to devote themselves to agriculture.
France only, with her experience of the Mussulman
and the Berber, can succeed in such an enterprise."

There is something almost magnificent about M.
Etienne. " France only with her experience of the
Mussulman." That is something like vanity! It
displays a patriotism peculiarly French. A patriot of
our own presented his blind eye to the telescope
levelled at certain signals. The Deputy for Oran
shuts his eyes to the history of the past century, and
utterly ignores India and Egypt, and the greater part
of the Mohammedan world as known to Europe, in
the heat of his own dream of the establishment of a
French Empire in North Africa. His reference to
the Powers and agriculture must be regarded, one
apprehends, as a mere rhetorical flourish. Then,
perhaps, with a thought of France's professed care
of the Moorish status quo only, M. Etienne adds :

" Any partition must end, in this rugged and
difficult country, where the fomenters of disorder will
ever be sure of immunity by passing from one
territory to another, in hopeless anarchy!" French
annexation, we must assume, would merely cement,
in peace and harmony, the mysterious status quo.
British criticism is forestalled, and the peasant

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 283

conscience of France is quieted in anticipation by the
bllowing naive passage :

" 'Every position on the road to India/ said Lord
Dastlereagh at the Congress of Vienna, ' ought to
belong to us and will belong to us/ In virtue of this
xiom England took the Cape and Mauritius in 1815,
Aden in 1839, Perim in 1857, Cyprus in 1878, and
Egypt in 1882 ; an admirable example of political
intelligence and perseverance in the conduct of affairs.
Let us adopt it as a principle that no influence rival-
ing ours ought to make any attempt against our pre-
nderance in the whole of Barbary, and let us
repare, by every means in our power, to realise this
:laim, without haste or interruption, with some
ontinuity of design, and some energy in the exe-
ution, though we be for this purpose obliged to
cur to the last argument of peoples and kings :
\]Ultima ratio regum"

I

a I Thus M. Etienne, in martial vein, quotes the motto

o jvhich once ornamented the muzzles of French cannon,
ie whilst the Quai d'Orsay asks Europe to believe that
i, [he only mission of France in Morocco is the peace-
:e [naking elder brother's desire to preserve order and
Ister up Moorish independence. But even M.
itienne, frankly as he shows us his country's real aims
id |n N orth Africa, would not have us deem him ruthless :

" Shall it be said of us Colonials that we dream
ch Inly of victories and conquests? Such a thing is far
nt, |rom our thoughts ; if our policy is wise, moderate,
nd well carried out, we believe there will be no such
cessity. On the contrary, we ought to present our-

284 MOROCCO

selves to the Sultan and to Morocco as a Mussulman
Power, the only one capable of protecting him against
the covetousness of Europeans."

Was ever Vice-President so candid ?

" It is for us to guide the Sultan in the way o
progress, and certainly we shall do it with more
prudence and discernment than our rivals have some-
times shown. It is perhaps for Morocco above al
that it is to be wished that France should be her
instructor."

It will not be an easy task to bring Moors to M
Etienne's way of thinking. Algeria is too close to
them ; they know too much of the lives of their
cousins over the border.

We come now to the consideration of ways anc
means from M. Etienne's point of view. And here
the present writer would say that, absurd as the
French pretence of disinterestedness in Morocco may
have been (it has sufficed apparently to hoodwink
Europe, and certainly it has effectually deceived the
British public, if not a large proportion of British
statesmen), there is nothing half-hearted or inefficien
in the methods adopted by France to build up and
extend her sphere of influence in Morocco. Watch-
ful, tireless and consistent, patient in small matters
instant in punishment and peremptory in all question;
of real import, France has steered her course towarc
Moorish dominance with masterly precision for c
quarter of a century, picking up threads carelessly
dropped by England, disregarding no least indication
missing no smallest advantage, and securing beyonc

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 285

possibility of loss every point scored in the diplomatic
game. The teaching and spread of the French
I language, the bestowal of French official patronage,
[and the granting of protection (scornfully refused by
England) to the Shareefs of Wazzan, are but in-
I stances. The uses of the Algerian army upon the
Moorish frontier, and the gradual extension of the
Algerian railway upon Moorish soil, are doubtless
[very well known-to M. Etienne :

" Undoubtedly there is here a delicate task, and
me which demands not to be lost sight of for a single
lay. This is not the place to indicate the means of
iction at our disposal ; they are many, of the first
>rder, and some among them are of such a nature that
LO other European Power has their like. Let it
suffice to allude to the services which we can expect
from our Algerian Mussulmans as commercial and
)litical agents. Islam knows no frontiers, and that is
y those one might wish to create in Morocco will
jver be useless. Algerian Mussulmans are regarded
|n Morocco not only as compatriots but as brothers.
Ya Khouia,' ' Mon frere,' is the greeting with which
11 Moors welcome them." (The same remark would
ipply with equal pertinence to the Mohammedans of
mthern China.) "And then, what an admirable
Instrument, in a skilful hand, are these Shareefs of
r azzan, who have placed themselves under the pro-
jection of France ! " (The late Shareef of Wazzan,
'hen he married an English lady, applied to the
Jritish Minister for English protection, which,
icredible as it may seem from the diplomatic stand-
joint, was rudely refused him. France naturally
relcomed the affronted and influential Saint with

286 MOROCCO

open arms.) "We have compromised them, but
scarcely used them. The Shareef of Wazzan is the
first personage in Morocco, after, or perhaps even
before the Sultan, who in some sort receives investi-
ture from him, and who appeals to his religious
prestige whenever he finds himself in a difficult
situation! It may be said then without exaggeration
that the protection of these holy persons, if we know
how to use it, can be equivalent to us to a protectorate
of Morocco. They allow us to act over the Blad-es-
Siba, over all the independent Berber States, that is
to say over two-thirds of Morocco." (This would be
news to the hardy Berbers of Morocco, who, as
France will find to her cost, should she ever put into
action her policy of annexation, own allegiance to no
man.)

Finally, M. Etienne says :

" Scientific curiosity was not the sole motive of the
traveller. Under the desired prudence of the ex-
plorer one feels the ardour of the soldier, who * in
his nomad dreams sees everywhere the shadow of his
flag spread itself upon his path/ The Marquis de
Segonzac has placed at the service of science and of
his country his boldness as an officer of Spahis, his
heroism and endurance. He has written his name
beside those of those valiant ones of whom a people is
justly proud the De Foucaulds, the Foureaus and
the De Brazzas."

The present writer has quoted this document a
some length, not merely because of its inherent
interest, but in the earnest hope that it may serve as a

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 287

light by which the too easy-going British public may
read more clearly their news of the march of events
the downward march of events in Morocco. It
would be difficult to over-estimate the importance to
England of the future disposition of the Extreme
West of the world of Islam. " The next European
war will be waged over Morocco," said the far-seeing
Disraeli. There could be no more serious menace to
Britain's supremacy afloat and as a world power, than
;he establishment of a French Morocco, linked to
Igeria and Tunis, and forming a North African
mpire. Further than which there can be no doubt
hat (while the inevitability of the ultimate downfall of
e Shareefian Government and the disintegration of
he Moorish Empire may be admitted) the recent
pheaval in Morocco, and the success achieved by the
retender to Abd el Aziz's throne, is a state of things
or which the English are partly responsible. Oddly
nough, in view of the dishonesty and corruptness of
heir administration, the Moors are not either a dis-
loyal or an insurrectionary people. On the contrary,
hey are loyal (piety and loyalty are interchangeable
erms in Mohammedan communities), long-suffering,
nd, upon the whole, law-abiding. The Pretender's
ecent successes are chiefly due to the charges he was
ble to bring against the young Sultan and hisgovern-
ent. " Your sovereign is a renegade, his measures
re inspired by infidels, his pleasures are those of the
hristians, his desire is to swamp us with infidel
novations." For those charges the Pretender's
attle-cry the English are responsible. The British
olicy, and the indiscretions of various private citizens
f Britain, gave the Father of the She- Ass his chance ;
nd, optimistic correspondents to the contrary not-

ta

288 MOROCCO

withstanding, we have not yet heard the last of the
Pretender or of the young Sultan's troubles. In my
last letters from Tangier, from a correspondent in
daily touch with the capitals and the Court, I read :

"The situation has been growing more and more
complicated and serious since you left, though
perhaps, less immediately critical. The actual con-
dition of the country remains much the same. As yoi
know, that is sufficiently chaotic. But the psychi<
conditions, the mood of the people, are more serious
Now, at long last, the foreign Ministers begin to shak<
their heads ominously and to show symptoms o
anxiety. Only the French appear cheerful, though
to be sure their affairs, particularly in Algeria, are
tangled enough. It is certain that, with all their
brilliant qualities, the French are no colonists. Abe
er-Rahman, Abd es-Saddik has been endeavouring to
bring the Fahsia (people of Fez) to their senses
but these and the Anjerra people are said to have
taken fresh offence at Abd er-Rahman's going to
receive King Edward. -Indeed this feeling against
England is being constantly, secretly and effectively
fanned by the one European Power, with a well-defmec
business-like policy here, and, aided at every turn by
the tools of that Power, the stupid natives are playing
into the hands of the Fate that is spelled Foreign
Intervention."

There is no room for reasonable doubt that the page
of "The book of Allah," on which is written the fina
break-up of the Moorish Empire, has been almost
reached. After the perusal of a document like M,
Etienne's preface to the Marquis de Segonzac's book

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 289

on Morocco (the preface is signed ceremoniously :
<c Eug. Etienne. D<put6 d'Oran, Vice-Prdsident de la
Chambre des Ddputds," and the book obviously enjoys
official countenance and approval), there should be no
room for doubt as to the real nature of France's aims
and desires with regard to the ultimate disposition of
is rapidly-crumbling realm. It is for Britain to say
whether France should be given the free hand she
ppears to accept as a matter of course, whether it is
||indeed true that, " France only, with her experience
f the Mussulman and the Berber, can succeed in
uch an enterprise." If the policy of drifting be
ursued much further, the time for Britain (really the
ower most shrewdly concerned) to speak will have
ej^one by for ever. But if the worst is to be, and
Europe is to permit the establishment of a French
Morocco, remains still for the present the question
o|)f some quid pro quo, say in Egypt, and in Newfound-
ijand. A crumb is better than no bread, and, once the
/ejoaf is seized, it may not be possible to obtain even
tol'iuch a crumb as, by comparison with the sacrifice of
is|j.ll claims in Morocco, the withdrawal of harassing
ityrrench pretensions in Egypt would be. Events have
ed|>efore now proved the ability of the average English-
lan to interest himself deeply, upon imperial grounds,
i the fate of remote Antipodean wilds. Surely, with
e records before him of the Soudan, of our Eastern
mpire, of Gibraltar, and of the essential import to us
f the freedom of the sea, the average Englishman
an interest himself in the imminent fate of the land
hind the African Pillar of Hercules.

290 MOROCCO

POSTSCRIPT

The following delayed letter, dated May ist, has
now reached me from Tangier, written by a gentleman
who knows as much of the true inwardness of Moorish
affairs as any European living, and who, at the time
of writing this letter, was journeying on the road from
the Court to the coast :

" From the evidence I have been gathering during
the past few weeks I am practically certain that th*
present rebellion has been carefully fanned and en
couraged by an an ti- English combination on the par
of two lesser Powers with the one Power whose
policy in Morocco has long been clear to all whc
know the country. I know now that the Pretendei
was in Tangier early last September, and I air
assured that he was in touch with European official*
at that time. He is said to be advocating the claims
of Moulai Mohammed El Semiali, a descendant o
the Idreesine dynasty, the founders of Fez, and o
the Mosque of Moulai Idrees in that city. This
movement is daily assuming more importance, and
counts many adherents, even in Tangier and in othei
ports. Personally I begin to fear that the unfortunate
young Sultan must be doomed ; but the English in
Tangier admit no doubts as to his final triumph ; which
would be well enough if the English were reall]
prepared to back him in the tight corner they hav
helped him to reach. But the bulk of the Shareefs o
the country a power here, as you know ar
working tooth and nail for his opponent ; and nov
that I find that at least one of the European Power

A FRENCH PREFACE AND MOROCCO 291

upports the Pretender, whilst all the friends, soldiers,
fficials, etc., of Abd el Aziz lie on their oars, I really
nnot see upon what grounds one can base any
easonable hopes of the Sultan's triumph. It is true
e is still paying his troops, but only with borrowed
oney, and I doubt whether his foreign creditors will
ntinue their advances for long, particularly when
ne considers the extreme difficulty of sending re-
ittances inland from the coast, when the caravans
y be attacked at any moment en route by the
eballa. I wish I could give you more hopeful
vices, and, as you say, look for the brightest. But
ere would be no sense in my deceiving you. I
tljimply state the facts as I see them. As for con-
ie|lusions to be drawn from them, it seems to me
bvious that well, that France has made up her mind
the time has arrived for her to shake the tree,
fflhat Morocco, the ripe and much-desired plum, may
All at last into her ready hand."

THE DIPLOMATIC CORPS IN MOROCO

TANGIER, November 1903.

THE year that is now ending has been a remarkabl
and, at times, a very exciting one in this strange
barbarous realm of his Shareefian Majesty Abd
Aziz IV. It may well be doubted if at any tinn
during the past half century a more weighty an<
onerous responsibility has rested upon the shouldei
of those who represent the Governments of Euro]
in Morocco than they have laboured under since lasj
Christmas. At the moment one finds them enjoyinj
something of a breathing space, owing to the younj
Sultan's disbandment of his irregular levies, anj
retirement in Fez. A glimpse of the situation whicl
by comparison, gives the European Legations hei
pause for rest, would go far toward making clear tj
English readers the sort of strain to which they havj
been subjected during recent months.

The town of Tetuan is situated some forty odj
miles, a long day's ride in this country, from Tangiej
The writer was speaking to a gentleman in Tangi<
the other day who has been trying for the last fr
months to obtain a few loads of a certain kind of ti|
which have been on order for him in Tetuan sin<
last June. The tiles are waiting there, and tl
purchaser is waiting here, and offering any sort
rates for transport. But between them lie fori

292

DIPLOMATIC CORPS IN MOROCCO 293

>dd miles of road which no man may hope to pass
dess at the head of an army. And this is breathing
ime for the Legations.

Again, some months ago, the lieutenant of the
ihaleefa of Tangier was seized beside his chief,
athin a couple of hours' ride of Tangier, by a band
bf tribesmen. The Khaleefa himself was bidden ride
>ack to Tangier and praise Allah for a whole skin,
'he assistant was maltreated in an indescribably
isgusting manner : his eyes were put out with his
>wn spurs made red-hot, he was clubbed, branded
ith hot irons, and left naked to die on an exposed
lill-side. By a chance which puzzles European
loctors this unfortunate creature survives yet, a
Deplorable and tortured wreck. His assailants stride
||nto Tangier Sok, their guns on their arms, whenever
ie fancy takes them, and no man dares to say them
.ay, for now during the moment of comparative
bst for their excellencies the European Bashadors
Liere is no sort of Government in Morocco, save the
||rimitive sort we call tribal, no taxes have been paid
>r the better part of two years, and the only law that
ins among Moors is the easily demonstrable one
r hich decrees that might is right and that the man
rho shoots first wins.

To be sure it might be said that the European
Ministers are not here to administrate native affairs,
id that this state of absolute anarchy among Moors
no immediate concern of theirs. One must be
jre among the Moors to realise fully and intimately
ie fallacy of this. Take, for example, the case of
snor Cologan, the Spanish Ambassador, who, by
ie way, as doyen of the Diplomatic Corps in Pekin,
is the Minister chosen to take over the payment of

294 MOROCCO

the last Chinese indemnity. As Spanish Minister j
here, Senor Cologan is responsible for the safety and I
well-being of four- fifths of the European community 1
in Morocco, a section which may be said to include]
the whole of the "poor whites," a populace the!
governing of which would be no easy task even in
the midst of all the resources of European civilisation,!
since it embraces a substantial portion of the criminal!
riff-raff of Southern Spain, escapees from the convictj
settlement at Ceuta, and undesirables *of all sortsj
for whom the slums of Cadiz and .of Andalusiai
generally have become temporarily too hot. There]
is plenty of aguardiente in Morocco, and the vilest ofj
Hamburg gin is available to the poorest. Spanis
blood runs at least as hotly here as in Spain, and,
putting aside the ever-ready knife, of which th
Spaniard of all grades is a past master, there are n
restrictions here in the matter of carrying arm!
Picture to yourself, then, the narrow streets an
arched culs-de-sac of Tangier by night, the Spanis
idlers clustered about little drinking dens, wil
Moorish tribesmen with guns at the ready, and
their fanatical hearts the consciousness that at this tim
no law holds, or is pretended to hold, outside the wall
of the foreign Legations. Here you have hereditan
enemies of the most unmanageable sort rubbin:
shoulders every moment ; upon the one hand, to<
often, the habit of crime and a mind inflamed by vil
spirit ; upon the other, a semi-savage fanatic to whoi
the slaying of an infidel is a virtue, proud ye
decadent, and withal hotly aware that for a year an<
more all authority has been mocked in his countr
and no kaid has dared demand the payment of
single tax. A sudden oath, the flash of a knife, th

DIPLOMATIC CORPS JN MOROCCO 295

crack of a Mauser in Moorish hands, one fanatic
shout of, " Death to the Nazarenes, who have made
an infidel of our Sultan, and are robbing us of our
country ! " and what then of security ? What then of
the stored banks and Jewish houses of business?
What then of , the white women and children behind
flimsy walls in pent and crowded Tangier, or in its
straggling suburbs, and among the isolation of its
villas on " The Mountain"?

Senor tologan, even more, perhaps, than his
colleagues of the other Legations, has had much to
occupy his mind this year.

In the French Legation, M. Saint Rene-de
Taillandier, a man of scholarly and academic family,
las a delicate and difficult position to hold. French
pretensions in Morocco are very high ; they are based
upon the aims and longings, not to speak of deliberate
actions and intentions, of the most ambitious
statesmen produced by France during half a century.
They are fanned and fostered by the military
authorities across the Algerian frontier that vague
but ever-advancing line which has now reached
Figuig in the south-east. The military party have
their inspired organs in the press ; the younger
officers in Algeria have long been frenetic, athirst for
lory and advancement. And in Paris there is the
Bloc, the all-powerful Bloc, whose tail is socialistic and
strongly anti-military, and whose mouth-piece in
Morocco is M. Saint Rene-de Taillandier. Truly a
very difficult and delicate position, in which M. de
Taillandier must be grateful for the fact that, in the
Personnel of his Legation, he has a circle of excep-
tionally able and loyal colleagues. The French
Minister has been unjustly accused of being pro-

296 MOROCCO

English. The accusation is a tribute to his high
sense of honour and of justice.

M. de Bacheracht, the Russian Minister in
Morocco, is here to serve French interests, a
substantial addition to the strength of French in-
fluence. M. de Bacheracht has fulfilled this task in
so courteous and considerate a spirit that even those
whose policy is necessarily opposed to that of France
(and, consequently, to that of Russia) have been led
to entertain a warm and sincere regard for the
personality of the Russian Minister.

In the German Legation, Baron F. de Ment-
zingen is more fortunately placed than M. Saint
Rene-de Taillandier, for Germany has no traditional
pretensions in Morocco. The development of her
commerce here is Germany's simple and well-served
aim, and in his work in Morocco Baron Mentzingen
is assisted by a staff of honourable German gentlemen
of a stamp not connected with intrigue of any sort.
The Italian embassy in Morocco is ably served, and
contains much special knowledge of Moorish customs
and affairs. But the present policy of Italy in this
country is one of absolute passivity, and therefore is
not a difficult one to handle. One may take it that
French ambitions here, high as they are, will not be
checked by Italy. M. G. de Gaspardy and Le
Comte Conrad de Buisseret, the present Ambassadors
here from Austria and Belgium respectively, whilst
doubtless sharing to some extent in the anxiety which
has ruled in all the Legations, have had fewer diffi-
culties to face than have most of their colleagues.

Readers of newspapers in England, with or with-
out knowledge of the inwardness of Moorish affairs,
should be aware, one thinks, that Sir Arthur Nicolson,

DIPLOMATIC CORPS IN MOROCCO 297

the British Ambassador and Minister Plenipotentiary
in Morocco, has this year had to deal with issues of
exceeding delicacy and complexity. The responsi-
bility upon his shoulders has been heavy and
continuous, and he has borne it with conspicuous
success in circumstances of exceptional difficulty. It
may be pointed out that the strategic position of
I Gibraltar in relation to Tangier, as being the nearest
| point from which the aid of European troops might
be obtained in case of emergency, has in a sense made
[Sir Arthur Nicolson responsible for the safety of the
rhole European community in Morocco. The con-
listent tact and discretion which in the past have
irved to render Sir Arthur the most popular and
generally-respected Minister who has represented
Britain in Morocco for many years, have not failed
lim at any moment during these most harassing
tenths of his residence here. There have been
junctures, more than a few, this year, at which a
momentary loss of discretion, a momentary weakness
pr yielding to not unnatural panic (many and varied
were the kinds of pressure brought to bear upon our
Minister while troops in Gibraltar awaited orders to
pmbark at any moment for Morocco) would have
precipitated, if not actual disaster, at least a crisis
which would have produced consternation in half the
Chancelleries of Europe. The very regrettable affair
bf Mr Walter B. Harris's captivity, the issues
nvolved by which were very much more than merely
Individual, was but one among several difficult com-
plications which our Minister handled with the
greatest skill, moderation and success. (In this con-
lection, by the way, it may be mentioned that Sir
Arthur has handed to the young Shareef of Wazan,

298 MOROCCO

Moulai Ahmet, a handsomely-inscribed gold watch J
from the British Government, as a mark of apprecia-
tion of the Shareef s good offices as mediator between I
the authorities and the tribesmen in Mr Harris's I
affair.)

An Ambassador cannot go beyond the policy and |
decisions of his Government, but it may fairly be said
that, according to their merits, the Governments of
Europe have been served in Morocco during a season
of great stress and difficulty with conspicuous ability,
loyalty and discretion. Further, if the European
Powers, and particularly the French and English
Governments, could but agree upon a policy that
should be at once definite, mutual, generous and firm
in relation to Morocco, it may be regarded as certain,
first, that their present representatives here would
pursue and apply that policy successfully, and, second,
that a now rapidly-crumbling State might be saved in
its own despite, so to say, and administered upon
lines which should make for stability and permanence.
Failing some such assistance, the end of the existing
r'egime must be admitted to be near. Unaided, the
present young Sultan can never regain the hold his
forebears had upon the reins of government.

RAID MKUKDDI KL MKNNEBHI

KX-MINISTKK OK \VAR AND FAVOURITK \\A7KKK

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO

TANGIER, December 1903.

THE personality of Moulai Abd el Aziz IV., by
Allah's grace (and his late Grand Wazeer's
strong head and hand) Sultan of Morocco, should
possess a special interest for Englishmen, if only as a
matter of noblesse oblige^ for the young ruler might fairly
trace many of his difficulties to his fondness for the
British and to our deliberate influence upon him. Here
in Tangier our obligation is felt clearly enough, and the
Lofty Portal's warmest supporters are accordingly the
English. By the same token, even in Tangier, one
lears mighty little of loyalty or devotion to the young
man among his own subjects. And that is not sur-
prising. The very tendencies and qualities which
give him standing in the regard of Europeans

enerally, and the British in particular, are the
things which fill his Muslim subjects to the throat
with angry scorn and contemptuous resentment. If
t be true that a Christian may not faithfully serve
Sod and Mammon, it is doubly sure that a
Mohammedan ruler, in unimpeachably Mohammedan
Al Moghreb, may not hope to serve successfully the

hristian and his own world of Islam.

There is something more than a little pathetic
ibout the figure of Abd el Aziz ; that is one of many
ways in which he resembles the feckless Louis XVI.
:>f France. To feel this intimately one must perhaps

299

300 MOROCCO

be in Morocco here, among his subjects, for (despite
its nearness to Europe) there never was a land the
atmosphere and conditions of which were more elusive
and difficult to convey to dwellers in the homes of
underground railways and County Councils, than this
Land of the Setting Sun.

Rather more than five-and-twenty years ago a
well-known man made a present of a beautiful
Circassian slave, the Lalla R'kia, to Moulai el Hassan,
the then Sultan of Morocco. The Lalla R'kia had
other qualities than prettiness, and was soon more
thoroughly in her Lord's confidence than any other
lady of his hareem, including his legitimate wives.
To the Lalla R'kia there was born Abd el Aziz, who
now sits (in unenviable and insecure state) under the
Shareefian Parasol, Sultan of this tottering realm.
This in itself is something of a sore point with the
orthodox, for there remains Moulai Mohammed the
One- Eyed, born of the late Sultan's legitimate first
wife, and by custom and tradition his rightful
successor as ruler. Now the late Sultan was not
pro-English ; he was too thoroughly a Moor, and too
strong and politic a Muslim ruler of Muslims for that.
But it will be admitted by all who knew him that he
always inclined a more friendly ear to the English
than to any other Nazarenes. He was less suspicious
of the British than of any other Christians. He did
not fear and resent us, as he did the French, for
example. Moulai el Hassan is now in Paradise, how-
ever, im ska Allah ! The point is that he educated
his son, Abd el Aziz, the present ruler, in the same
tradition, and taught him that the British were more
to be relied upon, more to be admired, and more to be
respected than any other infidels.

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO

301

The late Sultan left behind him, as Regent and
Grand Wazeer (Abd el Aziz was but sixteen years old
when the strategy of the Wazeer established him
securely as his father's successor), a man as strong and
as essentially a Moor as himself, and until Ba Ahmad
died, three years ago, the youthful Sultan not merely
was given no scope in which to develop his English
tendencies, but he was practically confined to the
quarters of his mother, the Lalla R'kia, and prohibited
from the display of any tendencies whatever. For
more than the half of a decade Ba Ahmad ruled
Morocco and its Sultan with a hand of iron and
according to the best Moorish traditions. From the
European standpoint it was a barbarous rule. It
certainly shut out all possibility of innovations in the
way of Western civilisation from Christendom. Two
things it did : It secured inviolable safety to
foreigners and their property in Morocco, and it
drew in the revenues of the country, largely into Ba
Ahmad's purse rather than into the Shareefian coffers
perhaps, but it gathered them in, and paid the
country's working expenses, and kept down rebellion,
and even the talk of rebellion. And as to the
matter of the Wazeer's purse " Lord," said he to the
royal youth, " I have no heirs. I am an old man who
knows ; you are a young prince who does not know.
Leave me then my free hand. It is a strong hand.
Men tell thee I have amassed great wealth. The
better for thee, Lord. The Sultan is my only heir.
Leave me then my free hand, for it is strong, and
\I know"

Then the iron-handed Wazeer died, and whilst
the Court in Marrakish quivered and rustled with
excitement, young Abd el Aziz proclaimed his inten-

302 MOROCCO

tion of being his own Wazeer for the future, and the
scramble began for the great fortune of Ba Ahmad, a
portion of which did actually reach the Shareefian
coffers. The young Sultan would be his own Wazeer,
he said ; there should be great changes in his realm ;
he would do as do other great monarchs ; the modern
world was full of wonderful and interesting things
which pertained properly to royalty ; all these advan-
tages should be his; his shadowy, hareem days of
tutelage were ended ; the king had come into his
kingdom and would achieve great things. Conceive
the rustle of approval from the hareem, the unctuous
flattery of the whole tribe of Court parasites, even the
echo, there in Marrakish, of European acclamation of
the young Sultan's enlightenment, his progressive,
modern spirit. But Abd el Aziz was little more than
a boy, and if man may not live alone, Moorish Sultan
assuredly cannot live alone, but can only rule by the
strong and deft manipulation of many intertwining and
conflicting currents of influence.

One thing about Abd el Aziz, apart from his
boyish good-nature, curiosity, and facile impression-
ability, was outstanding and noticeable ; that was his
deeply-implanted inclination toward, and preference
for, the English. At his hand, then, the plastic young
man found Corony, or Kaid (now Sir Harry) Maclean,
the British military instructor of his troops. At the
Raid's hand was Meheddi el Mennebhi, the repre-
sentative of a considerable kabyle in the neighbouring
hills. Mennebhi, thus identified with British influence,
was at once taken into high favour and sent off on his
mission to the Court of St James with Sir Harry.
But the French must not be offended, so Ben Sleeman,
perhaps the most able of the Wazeers, was despatched

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO

303

to Paris and St Petersburg. Remained with the
pultan (besides the commercial representatives of
Christendom, then busily introducing to his youthful
lOtice the most costly of European toys), El Fedool
rharnit, another leading Wazeer with an eye upon
;he favourite's place. His main hold lay in his
r arning : " Lord, your new advisers have not
ielded up to you the half of Ba Ahmad's great
p ealth." (It is a fact that some of Ba Ahmad's jewels
p ere subsequently offered for sale to Christians in
'angier, and not by Shareefian authority.) The
r oung Sultan took ready umbrage in his own facile
r ay. Gharnit and his party, the orthodox Wazeers
,nd tried men, were, after all, the best. Mennebhi
[hould find a dungeon awaiting him on his return from
ingland, and that should be the end of his brief
:areer. And Mennebhi undoubtedly would have
:ntered that dungeon but for the friendly intervention
if the English, and his own pluck and ready resource,
it was, he was restored to favour as Minister of
ar ; but mark this, and recall the methods of
rench Louis XVI. Gharnit, his accuser, and the
hole ring of his bitter personal enemies, remained
ually in power and favour, and shared their Lord's
unsels with him. That was three years ago, and
at is the situation to-day, and the least hopeful
ie ^ature of the young Sultan's position and character,
is counsels are ever divided. He gives his con-
ence to one Wazeer, and the next day acts upon
e advice of another who is the bitter and implacable
ponent of the first. Thus, upon one party's advice
set out the other day to occupy in person the
ronghold of Tazza, and now has retreated to Fez
on the other party's advice. No concerted action

304 MOROCCO

is possible from such a Cabinet, and it is impossible to!
look for a consistent policy from Abd el Aziz while
he continues to fly from one to another of these cut-
throat players at political advancement, sharing their
counsels and acting upon them alternately.

But Abd el Aziz is not the only inconsistent power
in the world. His amiability is touching. His ready
acceptance of European (mainly British) counsels in
the matter of reforming his country's administration,]
by robbing him of all spiritual prestige among hisj
orthodox subjects, has placed him in the perilous and]
unenviable position of a monarch who hardly dares t(
stir outside his palace walls, beyond which his rul<
runs not one yard ; it has emptied his coffers und<
the long strain of unsuccessfully combating the in-|
surrection it caused, and stripped him of all power oi
replenishing them by making him incapable of collect-l
ing his own revenues. And, having done so much,]
Britain has suddenly turned a cold shoulder upon th<
young man and tacitly warned him to look for no sort
of support or countenance from her.

Abd el Aziz has all those traits of character which]
we are used to expect in a fairly intelligent younj
half-caste, and he is rich in the defects of the type.]
Stability he has none. His mind is alert, imitative,
impressionable and flighty ; his character amiable,
yielding, kindly, and weak as water. Reduced t<
despair at one moment by the parlous condition oi
his finances, he is unable to resist the temptation oi
ordering the next moment a thousand pounds' wortl
of some toys that have caught his eye. Easily re-
conciled to a minister who has robbed and helped t<
cripple him, he will fly into a rage and personal!]
chastise the favourite who should so far forget himseli

THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO

305

as to excel his royal master in some form of sport.
It may be doubted if any Moorish Sultan ever wished
his subjects more happiness, or was more cordially
well-disposed toward all men ; and it may be doubted
if any Moorish Sultan ever dragged the affairs of his
realm into more hopeless confusion. Abd el Aziz has
the alert curiosity of a schoolboy, the facile, hysterical
impressionability of a clever schoolgirl, the good-nature
of an English country gentleman, and just precisely
no strength at all. And if anything in the world of
politics is certain, it is that, failing British aid, Moulai
Abd el Aziz is foredoomed to complete and final failure.

U

THE MOORISH PRETENDER

TANGIER, December 1903.

THE Moorish Rogui, or Pretender, at whose insti-
gation the tribesmen of Morocco have been in
open rebellion against their Sovereign Lord the Sultan
for close upon two years, during which period no taxes
whatever have been paid in any part of the Empire,
has now proved himself, paradoxically enough, to be
a man of no particular importance. He is the creature
of circumstances and of his times, in a sense which ]
makes his individual existence as Rogui merely!
accidental. So much is clear; the Pretender is no
Napoleon, no conquering genius, nor yet a heaven-
born saviour and leader of the people. Were he the!
half of any one of these things he had assuredly beei
proclaimed Sultan of Morocco many months ago.
The circumstances in his favour have been veryj
many; those against him, outside the primary]
difficulty, which genius would have overcome, of th<
lack of cohesion and inability to organise whicl
characterise the Moorish people, have been very few.
Those writers who, a year ago, asserted that th<
Rogui would never again be heard of, were doubtless
aware of these things, and judged accordingly. Bui
all of them, including the well-informed Timei
correspondent, who was then offending the Faithfuj

306

THE MOORISH PRETENDER

307

by residing at Court upon intimate terms with the
Sultan, apparently overlooked the facts, then indicated
in the pages of the Fortnightly Review, that the
Rogui was paying his way in solid French gold, and
that his appearance was hailed with unconcealed
delight by the military party in France, and by army
men and their supporters in Algeria, as a notable
step toward their much-desired goal of French inter-
vention in Morocco. In plain words, the Pretender
has, from his outsetting, been backed by the military
party in Algeria, at whose disposal, one assumes, is
a share of French secret service funds.

Another source of the Rogui's power lies in a
curious misapprehension which has now become an
article of faith among tens of thousands of otherwise
intelligent, orthodox Moors. This is the belief that
the man is none other than Moulai Mohammed the
One-eyed, who, according to popular Moorish tradi-
tion and custom, should now be on the throne, since
jhe is Abd el Aziz's elder brother, and was born in
wedlock of the late Sultan's first wife, whilst the
I mother of the Sultan, his junior, was merely a
favourite slave. Like certain more enlightened folk
tin Christendom, the Moors possess a singular faculty
[of making themselves really and genuinely believe

le thing they wish to believe, even in the face of
:ular demonstration to the contrary. The writer

:nows Moors in Fez who solemnly proclaim their
[belief in this particular myth, though they have quite
[recently seen the real flesh and blood Mohammed in
|:he Sultan's palace. Moreover, the belief is firmly

teld and ardently proclaimed by the Shareefs of
r azan and their great following (even by the half
European sons of the English Shareefa) in despite of

308 MOROCCO

their knowledge, or of what certainly was their
knowledge a little while ago, that the Pretender is
really an adventurer who, a few years back, was
robbing them in Algeria by posing as one of them-
selves and collecting tribute in their sacred name. It
should easily be understood that this widely-spread
belief gives the Rogui a great pull.

There is a third source of influence, drawn upon
by the Pretender, which, though very feal and vital
to the Moors, will not appeal strongly to the Nazarene
observer. The man is a master of legerdemain, in
the arts of which he acquired considerable dexterity
during his recenUadventures as a mock Shareef in
Algeria. His tricks would scarcely excite remark in
the Egyptian Hall, perhaps, since Egyptian Hall
audiences do not seek to find supernatural explana-
tions of the performances they witness ; but they
have done very much for him among ignorant and
fanatical hill tribesmen. This fact could be illus-
trated by a dozen stories of changing stones into
French money and the like, but one must suffice
in this place; it is the latest.

In the neighbourhood of Tazza the Shareefian
troops did succeed in inflicting severe punishment
upon the Pretender's forces in one skirmish. One
of the Rogui's thick-and-thin supporters warned him
afterwards that much disaffection existed in the camp,
owing to the fact than men who had been promised'
immunity from bullet wounds and the like had
actually been wounded, and even slain, by thd
Sultan's men. The Rogui pondered, took his in-j
formant into his confidence, dug a grave in his tent,
and therein buried the informant, with a hollow!
bamboo so placed in the man's mouth as to com-j

THE MOORISH PRETENDER 309

m

municate with the surface air. Then the Pretender
summoned a deputation of the disaffected.

" My sons," says he, " I hear there are among ye
foolish and doubting ones who repine because some
of your comrades appear to have suffered at the hands
of our enemies, the friends of the infidels and followers
of the arch-renegade who calls himself your Sultan.
This is foolish of you, but yet I would have you re-
assured. Therefore shall ye speak with one who,
slain in my service, serves me still in another world,
and that without repining. Let us speak with Abd er-
Rahman, say, whom the infidel-lovers shot yesterday.
Ho, Abd er- Rahman ! Ho, there in. Paradise ! Speak
to these, my faint-hearted disciples, I pray thee."

The juggler waved his arm, in stately fashion be
sure, and from out the bowels of the earth apparently
the simple tribesmen heard the voice of a departed
associate rally them upon their lack of faith and
courage. The voice described a sumptuous pavilion
in Paradise, under which ran a crystal-clear river,
about which luscious fruits, ever of perfect ripeness,
awaited the hand that would pluck them, in which a
thousand big-eyed houris of dazzling beauty tended
him, the thrice-blessed Abd er- Rahman, who, having
by good luck died while fighting for the Rogui, now
enjoyed a felicity to attain which, could they but
realise a tenth of it, every mother's son in the Pre-
tender's horde would straightway rush to seek death
while fighting the Shareefian troops.

The malcontents drew back in satisfied awe and
happy reverence. From that moment they vowed
they were the Pretender's, soul and body. "It is
well, my sons," quoth the Rogui, stepping backward
and placing one foot over the orifice through which

310 MOROCCO

his unfortunate accomplice spoke and breathed. " But
this is now a sacred spot. Go then, each of you, and
bring hither a great stone, that we may erect a shrine,
that all men may see and know this for the place in
which I called one from the joys of Paradise to speak
with ye." And they brought their stones and built
the shrine ; and so ended the Rogui's most famous
trick, and the Rogui's most faithful accomplice.

But, when all is said, these things the juggling,
the Algerian gold, the Moulai Mohammed delusion
are but side-winds by which the fire of the Pretender's
influence as a rebel leader are fanned. These are
useful beyond doubt ; but the mainspring of the
man's power is the fact that he leads and voices
rebellion against Moulai Abd el Aziz IV., whose
spiritual prestige, the sole enduring basis of temporal
authority in Morocco, the young man has utterly and
entirely lost. The Rogui is not really Mohammed
the One-Eyed. He is not at all of saintly blood. He
is a common man of the people ; shrewd, coarse of
habit, utterly unprincipled, and very poorly educated.
(The writer has before him at this moment one of
the Pretender's crude letters to the tribesmen, a
reproduction, with a free translation, of which will
be found at the end of this chapter. The Arabic is
of the baser sort, the phraseology is lame, and the
spelling abominable ; but even the learned among
Moors applaud this letter by reason of the masterly
cunning they hold it to display, and the manner in
which, without a single direct statement after the
coarse and clumsy Christian fashion it makes
Koranic warnings and injunctions to incite the people
against their Lord the Sultan, who, by some strange
twist in his nature, has " himself become more than

THE MOORISH PRETENDER 311

half an infidel and lover of infidels.") His name is
Jilali el Zarhouny, otherwise Ba Hamdra, The Father
of the She- Ass, an appellation which alludes to one
of his many affectations in travel. He was a sub-
ordinate servant of the Court with Mennebhi, the
favourite Wazeer, in Ba Ahmad's time, and a bitter
personal enemy of the said Mennebhi. His travels
as an impostor in Algeria have been mentioned. On
his return to Morocco the chance of his life was given
the Rogui by the popular resentment, now roused to
blazing point, of the young Sultan's progressive and
European tendencies, and his ostentatious fondness
for men and things, methods and pastimes, from
England, all so deadly offensive to orthodox Moors.
(In Morocco, as in other Mohammedan lands, ortho-
doxy, piety, fanaticism and patriotism all mean the
same thing.)

" Your Sultan is illegitimate, slave-born, an infidel,
the friend of infidels, and the enemy of all true
Muslims," said the Rogui ; and he deftly quoted Al
Koran to prove that the nethermost fires of hell
awaited the Muslim who followed and submitted to
such a leader. " Who is the Moor most favoured by
your Sultan? A creature who plays infidel games
with him, who takes part with him in sacrilegious
practices, making pictures one of another, and in the
forbidden garb of the infidel. See, here are the
pictures. Who are the men who have your Sultan's
ear and are about him at all times ? Christians,
infidels, and the outcasts among infidels, who sit
with him, appear with him in public, and take his
hand as equals. And, these new laws, you know
whence they come? Like everything else your
Sultan cares for, they come from the accursed infidel,

312 MOROCCO

who will swallow up your land before your eyes and
make it his own. Your Sultan is an infidel himself,
and knows that this our Al Moghreb is no safe home
for him. He has bought him a home in infidel
England, and when he has sufficiently bled you he
will betray you into the hands of the infidels and
himself fly to their lands/' (The report had some
time before gained credence that the Sultan had sent
for a number of catalogues of estates for sale in
England, and that after consideration Kaid Sir Harry
Maclean had purchased in his own name, but for the
Sultan, a large property in one of the home counties.
The explanation given was that the Kaid had really
purchased this estate for his own use.)

It was a powerful indictment, from the Moorish
point of view. But the thing of it was that no indict-
ment was really needed. The Rogui taught the
people nothing ; he merely put their own thoughts
and bitter feelings into words of fire and sedition.
The angry resentment and disaffection were there
already. The Father of the She-Ass voiced them
cleverly, and the people applauded him, at first,
simply as a preacher. Gradually, then, the man him-
self and his handful of most devoted associates spread
abroad reports among the tribesmen ; and here, as
may be imagined, the good gold from Algeria played
a very prominent part. He was a true Shareef, he
changed stones into gold, bullets could not harm him,
he was the fore-runner of the veritable Mahdi, he was
Moulai Mohammed the One-Eyed and rightful
claimant to the throne. Wild hill-men sucked in
these marvellous tales over their charcoal fires,
polished up their flint-lock muskets and sallied forth
to see, and subsequently to join, the new power in the

THE MOORISH PRETENDER

313

land. No doubt the Rogui himself was more startled
than anyone to hear that he was actually Moulai
Mohammed ; but he found the idea worth acting upon,
and promptly he set up his mock court among the
hills, appointing ministers and chamberlains, a fly-
flicker, an executioner, wazeers and counsellors from
among the half-naked barbarians who rallied about
him. French gold made the thing real, fanatical
Moorish hatred of the young Sultan's innovations did
the rest, and thus a fully-fledged Pretender to the
Throne, who, be it said, would have swept Abd el
Aziz from his place in a month had he possessed the
requisite generalship, the genius necessary to main-
tain unity and concentration among his wild followers.
But he lacked this, and so, after every successful
skirmish, the bulk of his levies would disperse to their
mountain homes to discuss the situation and divide
the spoils, thus giving the Sultan time to retreat from
point to point, to reorganise his army and to establish
communications. And the Pretender, despite his
[assistance from Algeria, lacks initiative to rouse from
their apathy and rally about him the great bulk of the
I sympathisers with his cause ; i.e., the great bulk of
the people of Morocco.

314 MOROCCO

TRANSLATION.

PRAISE BE TO GOD !

To the servants of the True Shareef, the Kabyles
of the Beni Messara, Setta, Ben Mezalda, Ben
Yehmed, Akhmas, Ben Hassan, Beni Huzmor, Beni
Yeder, Beni Aroos, Serif, Rhouna, Beni Yessef, Beni
Khorfot, Osdrass, Beni Msaouar, Jebel el Habib,
Anjerra, Beni Said, Aghmara, arid all the dwellers
in the mountains of Hobt ; may God keep ye in the
right way. Peace be with ye, and the blessings of
God and of the Prophet.

Ye are without doubt advised of the abasement in
our land, even unto dragging in the dirt, of Islam ;
to such a point that the wise are drunken with unrest.
They find no means to remedy the evil state, and are
much perplexed. All this comes, as ye know, from
the sinful innovations and hankerings after new things
of chiefs who court the infidels, following their lead,
departing from the good counsels of Believers. These
miserable ones, who indeed become infidels, are lost,
both for this life and for the life to come. Their
portion is fire.

(This indirect way of accusing the Sultan and his]
favourites appeals far more to thoughtful Moors i
than any direct statement could. A. J. D.)

It is on this subject that our Lord, the Prophet,
says in his Book : " See ye not those who have]
strayed from the way of God, refusing to receive his
mercy, and have, by their evil deeds lowered the fame
and might of Islam." He has said also: "Put not

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THE ROGUI'S LETTER

THE MOORISH PRETENDER 315

your trust in tyrants, for from that ye will be cast
into the fire." These sinful people no longer take
notice of the divine verse which says : " God has
bought from Believers their souls and their goods for
Heaven." The sacred law condemns them, as the
following verse proves : " He who courts the friend-
ship of infidels becomes of them." The Prophet hath
said in his Revelations : " He who changes religion
and belief by heresy errs from the straight path." In
such a case it is the clear duty of Believers to warn
such an one or to destroy him, for the Prophet hath
said : " Kill him who changeth religion."

Meanwhile, all this hath been known to ye, and
not one among ye hath taken up the defence of the
cause of Islam. The Mussulman (here the writer
aims more directly at the person of the Sultan), who
s not bound to the vanities of this world, nothing can
linder from following strictly the way of God. What
can ye hope from the hypocrite, from the infidel
delivered over to pleasures and passions ? Think ye
that he will raise the fame of Islam, or that he will
defend it ?

Have ye forgotten the tradition which teaches us
that the Prophet said : " One part of my nation will
not stray from the right way ; it will await through
suffering the mercy of God. This part of my nation
will live in the Extreme West." That, as ye know,
is our Al Moghreb. What happiness for that
'country !

Inspiring ourselves with this, we have arisen and
taken up arms by the command and by the help of
God, and of His Prophet, to re-establish the might of
Islam, raise it from its abasement in this country
and reunite it in its dispersement. He who will obey

316 MOROCCO

these our commands from God and the Prophet shall
have peace, and who obeyeth not shall be punished
with death. The truth must be told ; otherwise we
are lost.

We give you to know that by the help of God our
truly Shareefian troops have inflicted a great defeat
upon the corrupt M'halla (army, or encampment)
which Abd el Aziz sent out, and which was encamped
at Hiayna. All the criminals who composed it took
flight in the greatest disorder ; we, with the Mussul-
mans who were with us, occupied the encampment and
took possession of all therein : tent, cannon, horses,
mules, arms, ammunition and valuables. All the
Kabyles gave us what they could spare to aid us in
sustaining the true cause and religion of Islam. Thus
should all true Mussulmans do, and not as the miser-
able and infidel-loving tyrants.

We give you to know that you may take your
share of joy and pleasure in the victory won by the
Mussulman troops, and we bid you collect your
fighting men and come to our gathering at Fez as
soon as you have received our letter. Let no
negligence or idleness hinder you from the defence
of Islam, and have no pity for him who has abased
Islam and is a tyrant.

2nd Ramadan 1320.

THE PRESENT SITUATION

TANGIER, December 1903.

WHILE the Imperialist wrathfully accuses the
Little Englander of seeing nothing beyond the
confines of his own parish, the Little Englander might
reply, if he chose, that his accuser sees little within a
thousand miles of home. The north-west corner of
Africa, which Moors call Moghreb al-Acksa and we
know as Morocco, is situated within a thousand miles
I of Hyde Park Corner, and within fifteen miles of Sir
George White's residence in Gibraltar. It is the wall
that skirts one side of our sea-way to the East. Its
ports are watch-towers that must be passed by all
vessels of Western civilisation bound through Suez to
the British Empire over-sea. Not only is its northern-
most promontory as important a part of the gate of
the Mediterannean as is Gibraltar, but its fertile soil
is the main source of the supplies which support the
garrison of Gibraltar, a far richer and more kindly
strip of littoral than southern Spain can show. No
|man with eyes in his head and an atlas at hand can
fail to realise the vital political and strategic import-
lance of the territory facing Gibraltar, alike to the first
maritime power in the world, and to the power which
holds already Algeria and Tunis. Yet, upon the
(English side of the Channel, less interest is shown in
the fate of Morocco than in the affairs of Siam ;
[most less is known of the present complicated

318 MOROCCO

situation in this country which lies at the back door
of Europe, stubbornly nursing its virgin riches and
hastening the end of its own independence, than is
known of the affairs and interests of Central Africa
and Equatorial America ; and for this fact Britain and
British interests will suffer in the near future, as they
have suffered many times before, for the lack of the
most rudimentary sort of forethought.

Upon the other side of the Channel, now, matters
are very far otherwise. In Paris, Morocco and
Moorish affairs are as familiar to the minds of men as
the Riviera is to Londoners, and with a deal more
reason. (If Londoners only knew it, they could find
a far finer climate, more beautiful scenery, more
interesting surroundings, and a better fillip to jadec
health, in Morocco, almost within sight of their
country's flag at Gibraltar, than any part of the
Riviera can offer them.) North Africa means as much
to the average thinking Frenchman as India means
to the English. Both French and English have
long recognised the importance of Egypt, overlooking
as it does the Eastern entrance to the Mediterannean.
But Morocco at the Western gate, the gate by which
the forces of Western civilisation must approach the
East Morocco, the temperate land which is rich
enough to be made the granary of Southern Europe,
the land which could well endure the strain of
sheltering armies and navies Morocco we are
apparently content to leave France to cultivate. It
is too close at hand to be deemed worth the big
Englander's consideration. This is a pity, for
Morocco is of vastly more importance to British
interests than are a great many remote lands with
regard to which the Imperialistic Britisher prides

THE PRESENT SITUATION

319

himself upon being well posted. And the situation in
Morocco is urgent and critical. And our friends in
Paris, unlike ourselves, are keenly and intimately
ognisant of this.

Whilst still nominally under the dominion of a
Sultan and Shareefian Government, Morocco is
tually without a ruler, and certainly without a
Government at this present moment. There are two
pposing forces in the country, both held temporarily
in abeyance by the winter rains (which make roadless
Morocco almost impassable) and by a variety of more
mplicated causes. The one is constitutional and
nfinitely smaller than the other, judged by the
umber of its supporters. This is personified by the
oung Sultan, whose power is scarcely felt or acknow-
edged outside the walls of the palace that shelters
im in Fez. The other is represented by the Pre-
ender, who is now busily engaged in beating up new
.dherents for a spring campaign. And at the present
oment, what is to be said of the situation as between
ultan and Pretender ?

One may have two answers to that question. To
nd friendly supporters of the young Sultan one must
o to the Europeans in Morocco, and particularly to
he British, with their traditional respect for constitu-
pejltional authority and inclination to back a hard-hit man.
' '""heir answer to this question would be that, having
nflicted punishment upon the rebels in several en-
agements, and having unfortunately been beaten in
ertain other fights, the Sultan has now disbanded his
rregular army for the rainy season, during which the
tate of the country adds enormously to the cost and
ifficulty of maintaining an army in the field, and has
etired into winter quarters in Fez. But, the less well-

are

ides

320 MOROCCO

informed but equally kindly-meaning newspaper
correspondent will add, before disbanding his army
the Sultan managed to sit down with it in Tazza, and
that was a very big thing for any Sultan of Morocco
to have done. If we then seek the Moorish view of
the situation (which, in the matter of the Tazza occupa-
tion, at all events is the only one based upon actual
fact) we should be told this :

In his innumerable skirmishes with the Pretender's
forces, the Sultan was more often beaten than not.
His troops were, many of them, drilled men, and much
better armed than the Pretender's; but the trouble
was he could not make them fight. The regular
Shareefian army fought, it is true. It is their busines
But the regular army, after all, is a small thing. Th<
levies, the men to whom the Sultan was at last paying
five times the regular daily wage, could not be made
to fight against the Pretender, because they wanted
the Pretender to win. By strategy the Sultan
managed to get a garrison of his regular army into
Tazza, where they were promptly besieged and made
powerless. The Sultan himself was never within
gun-shot of its walls. He camped with the remains of
his army near Tazza, and made desperate endeavours
to rescue his men in Tazza. His levies would noti
fight for him, and he was driven back by the Pre-;
tender's men. Then he gave up in disgust, disbanded j
the troops he had barely money enough to pay, and
retreated upon Fez, leaving the garrison in Tazza toj
worry its way out as best it might.

And now the Sultan's rule runs as far as his palace
walls in Fez, and not another yard. His coffers are)
empty, no taxes have been paid, or are likely to bej
paid ; Kaid Maclean was sent off hot-foot to England!

THE PRESENT SITUATION 321

to raise a loan, and already, because the news
|comes that he is not meeting with success there,
jhis prestige at court is falling, and Mennebhi, his
tyrotdgt, the Sultan's erstwhile favourite, has been
Deposed and is leaving Morocco for Mecca on pil-
rimage.

" And," said one old Moorish scribe to whom the
riter spoke of these things, "while the Sultan in
ez is at his wits' end for money, you see the tribe of
is European parasites here in Tangier, his infidel
iployds of one sort and another, dismissed from
ourt out of respect for the angry will of the Faithful,
icking their heels in this infidel -afflicted town, and
ome of them for whom, doubt it not, Allah hath
rm places prepared in Al Hotoma spending the
ultan's money, drawn on his order from the Customs,
ke water, flaunting it in our faces, buying our land
nd houses with it, and striving to think of new ways
f dissipating it. There are two Circassian slaves in
e town at this moment for whom the Sultan has
id a thousand dollars apiece. You saw the Carrara
arble lions the other day ! Phaa ! The infidels are
king a mock of our half-infidel Sultan before
ifl Battening upon the ruins of his realm."
lotj From all this it will have been gathered that
re-jjlorocco is, and has been for close upon two years, in
state of armed anarchy, and absolutely no authority
inl||olds good save that of the man with a gun. Even
ut Tangier, with its Legations, you may see the
tter lawlessness of the land. What, so far, has
laceleen the effect upon the country of this state of
areinarchy ? The writer will let one of the leading mer-
ants and bankers in Tangier (European, of course)
land peak for him :
x

322 MOROCCO

" The country has never, within the memory of
living men, been so rich and prosperous as at the
present moment. In itself, as you know, it is very
rich and fertile. If its people have been poor in the
past, that was due solely to the nature of the adminis-
tration of the country, and not at all to the country
itself. Now, my friend, there is no administration,
there is no government of any sort, and no taxes
whatever are paid. Naturally, then, the men who a
year or so ago lived always upon the extreme edge of
starvation to-day have tea and sugar. We know, we
merchants. They have these things, and they can
pay for them. In Tangier here you may see at a|
glance the state of things. Land values have goi
up enormously, building is in progress in every
direction, house rents are positively higher than they
are about Paris and London, business hums, money
is plentiful, labour and food are high priced. A
desirable state of things, you say ? Truly, in a
sense. But it is very like running a profitable
business on the edge of an active volcano. Call it
apathy, the habit of fear of European reprisals, or
what you will, the fact that no considerable outbreak
of Moors against foreigners has occurred this year isj
simply marvellous, and a remarkable tribute to
Moorish common sense. You know how certainly
and naturally it was expected. You know that
British troops were kept in readiness to embark from
Gibraltar at a moment's notice should word from Sir
Arthur Nicolson here reach them. And I know how|
often pressure, foreign pressure, too, was brought taj
bear upon Sir Arthur to give that word how close aj
thing it was. We may be grateful for the fact that]
in Sir Arthur, the British have here the best and

THE PRESENT SITUATION 323

most generally-respected Minister we have known in
Tangier these many years. The Moors know well
there is no law in the land ; they pillage one another
as the fancy takes them. How long, in such a land,
does a state of absolute anarchy take to breed out-
break and massacre ? Be sure we merchants and
family men put the question to ourselves anxiously
enough. Would I like to see the Rogui win, you
say ? The Rogui is nothing to me, and I believe the
Sultan to be a good, kindly lad at heart. But what
every business man in this country would like to see
s a strong man at the head of affairs, call him Rogui,
r Sultan, or what you will. And to be a strong
uler in Morocco a Moor must be a Moor, he must be
thorough Muslim. Progress Why, yes, as much
you will, but if the fabric is to hang together it
ust be gradual and upon the basis of enforced law
nd order. It is just pitiful, the notion of advising an
miable young man like the Sultan to institute such
nd such reforms, to see him agree, and order the
il ||hing to be done, and then think it is done. This
ountry is mediaeval. You cannot introduce the
i Ijinished products of three centuries of civilisation by
is If iving an order. Take this matter of the reformed
tt method of taxation, introduced on the advice of the
jiij [British. The advice was good enough, but to be of
ny practical value it would have to be backed with
roflnoney and troops. Instead of which, what has
Si |appened is that the British gave the advice, the
ultan accepted and acted upon it out of the goodness
his heart, the whole thing produced anarchy in the
)S ei|ountry, and, seeing that, the British have given the
ultan the cold shoulder and left him to the mercy of
an(|ie people they helped him to infuriate. If he had set

324 MOROCCO

to work gradually and carefully, a very strong Sultan,
with full coffers and a good army, might have
successfully introduced these reforms. This Sultan
had none of these things. This Sultan my friend, I
will tell you ; he has the best and kindliest intentions
in the world, and, to back them, no strength of
character or will whatever. Unassisted he cannot
possibly hold his own, having lost his spiritual
prestige for good and all. Assisted by France, he
will become a nonentity and Morocco will become
French ; which means the end of trade, broadly
speaking. Look at Madagascar, and remember the
fair promises and pledges given to merchants. Wh]
cannot France and Britain lay aside jealousy an<
join hands in keeping Abd el Aziz on the throne
That would benefit everyone. It is simply a questioi
of money and counsel. And if you doubt that this
country would repay it, just consider for one moment
what this country can produce in its present state off
complete insecurity and anarchy. But Britain has!
no right to play the part with France here that she I
has played with Russia over Turkey. French inter-!
vention here would mean the end of trade, and, asj
I see it, a tremendous loss to Britain commercially]
and politically. But intervention of some kind the!,
country cries aloud for. It cannot go on as it is going I,
Common humanity and decency forbid that, or should! j
forbid it, whatever political issues may be involved.! t
And though Britain is great at the game of waiting!^
or indifference, or whatever it may be, and the Frencrj
Government of the day is anti-military, yet you musj
not forget that constant dropping will wear away clf r
stone, and the pressure that a large section of he.j a
own subjects are bringing to bear upon France in th<jp

THE PRESENT SITUATION 325

matter of North- African expansion is both constant
and heavy."

Turning from this informant to The Matin of
November 24, the writer finds M. Etienne, the chief
of the Colonial party, dealing with the Morocco
question in the Paris Chamber of Deputies:

"M. Etienne separated himself definitely from M.
jjaures, who would only hear of pacific arrangement
Iwith the tribes. He said : * The Sultan has
Luthorised us to direct and instruct the men of these
ibes (M. Etienne's interpretations are quaint, and
frankly daring as his expressions of policy in the
tatter of French military ambitions in North Africa),
they are the embryo of forces which he will have,
lanks to our authority, With this policy enforced,
r ou may be certain, on the one hand, of absolute peace
in Southern Oran, and on the other that the delay
turn to our profit in Morocco. When, in fact, the
lultan sees that his strength comes only from our
Luthority, he will turn to us, and when the Govern-
ient, after having assured all Europe that we have
LO other end in view than a work of civilisation, has
:omplete liberty of action, then we can finish off the
rork. But if you wish to act only by pacific arrange-
ment, your efforts will be purely wasted ; and the
;ribes, by way of thanks, will send you bullets.' (Tres
nen ! Tres bien /)."

M. Etienne, with his reckless candour and his
a)frank, military ambitiousness, must be a good deal of
thorn in the side of the socialistic Bloc, one fancies,
or there is no denying that the strength of the Bloc

326 MOROCCO

lies in its tail, which is purely socialistic and anti-
military. And thus we arrive at the present curious
position of France in relation to Morocco. For half
a century she has aimed at securing Morocco as a
matter of vital and paramount importance. Now
that at last the fitting moment has arrived, when
Morocco itself is without a Government, Germany is
inclined to, perhaps, rather sardonic politeness, as who
should offer poison to a would-be suicide, Italy is
ready to be placated with the assurance of freedom in
Tripoli, and England, the great obstacle-maker, shows
only friendly indifference, France finds herself unpre-
pared to pluck the long-desired and cultivated fruit ;
finds, in fact, that that master of every democratic
state, the majority, is not willing to authorise th<
necessary outlay for a forward move. But, as h;
been indicated, there are many kinds of pressure
which can be, and are being, brought to bear upon the
French Government by the French military party ;
and that which the socialistic Bloc would never
authorise deliberately may well be forced upon it,
and very shortly, by the sort of tactics which gave
the Rogui his financial backing and helped to set
Morocco ablaze in rebellion.

POSTCRIPT

Readers of the Fortnightly Review of July
1901 may remember Hadj Mokdin and his
letter, which was called " A Swan's Song from
Morocco." The writer of these lines has just
received another letter from Hadj Mokdin, some
portion of which he thinks should reach the English

THE PRESENT SITUATION 327

public here. Be it remembered that in July 1901,
before the world had heard of a Moorish Pretender,
Hadj Mokdin wrote :

" What shall I say of the Frenchman, the French
protected Israelite, the commercial agent at the
Court?" (The Sultan's Court was then at Mar-
rakish, the remote and essentially African rather than
Moorish city in which Abd el Aziz first tasted the
power of his own hand.) "This I will say, that he
has achieved so much that here, in Marrakish, true
Believers must withdraw to the privacy of their own
apartments to curse him. He and his influence may
not, without dire risk, be openly reviled. And the
most of Moors are moved in their hearts to revile
this man. Nay, through him we draw near the stage
at which our Lord himself must and will be reviled and
held cheaply in his subjects eyes''

How absolutely true Hadj Mokdin's words (of
June 1901) were readers may judge. From his letter,
dated December 28th 1903, the writer of this article
extracts the following :

" My friend, the condition of the Lofty Portal is at
this present more parlous than has been that of any
previous Sultan who ever sat under the green Parasol
in Al Moghreb. I am newly arrived here in Tangier
from the Court, as you know. My son has this day
joined me, after one unrestful week spent about the
Court. My hand wearies at the thought of trying to
paint for you the situation, but this I will say, that in
my opinion the winter rains are our Lord's best friends.
I am assured that, failing aid from your lands, where

328 MOROCCO

the infidel dwells, our Lord cannot possibly hope to
take the field in spring-time to face again the angry
hordes who will follow in the train of the rascal whom
we call the Rogui. I call him rascal. Y'Allah t'if !
I have read his letters. He is a man of no parts.
But, my friend, he represents the feeling which stirs
the breast of well-nigh every Mussulman in this our
Al Moghreb. Therein lies his strength. And, with
the coming of spring-time (unless the French should
forsake him) he will come with forces somewhat
organised as well as forces may be in this land. And
he will speak loudly at the gates of Fez. And who,
my friend, shall answer him ? Not Moulai Abd el
Aziz, by Allah ; not Moulai Abd el Aziz, unless the
face of things shall have changed mightily. For,
to-day, there is no Moor in Al Moghreb who would
fight for Moulai Abd el Aziz, save those who fight for
money alone and are indifferent to the cause. And
how many of those who fight for money only can our
Sultan buy ? My friend, tell it abroad in your
London-Country, so that if any are there who care
for our unhappy Sunset Land help may be given
and Al Moghreb saved from the fate that befel
Algeria. Our Lord has just no money left at all.
His Kaid Maclean, they tell me, is now in London-
Country, pulling every string within his reach, and
pulling unavailably, to obtain money for our Lord.
The news of his unsuccess is in the Court even now,
and his prot4g&, Mennebhi, is deposed already.
Meantime, my son has it from Hadj Abd er-Rahman,
thou knowest, the Rogui is laying up stores of arms
and ammunition, and French gold is plentiful with
him. Think not that Moors will in the upshot rally
round our present Lord. You of your faith can

I

THE PRESENT SITUATION 329

hardly realise what it means to us. To the Moor it
seemeth that you Nazarenes, and more than any you
of London-Country, have bewitched, debauched our
Sultan. His European friends face us at every step
here in Tangier, the household of the chiefest among
them scattering money to the winds, flaunting it
before us, while our Lord repines alone, almost
defenceless, lacking the pay for his natural guards
there in Fez. And, my friend, I say it in alKpersonal
kindliness, you people of London-Country have done
this thing ; you, even more than the accursed tribe of
Fransawi (the French), have made a mock of our
Sultan to his own people. Can you then turn your
backs upon him in his loneliness? Be sure the
Fransawis will not when the time comes for them to
give aid. Give aid ! Thou knowest what their aid
will be. And, my friend, thou knowest it will shut out
aid and trade alike to any other Nazarene Power. Our
Sultan is a young man with a large heart and a small
head. May Allah pardon me that I should say so to
a Roumi ! He has done, or attempted to do, the
things which your countrymen bade him do, and
thereby he has lost the last shred of power over his
own people. Can you leave him at that? If so, the
end is certain a French Morocco ; and that I think
within a few moons. But can it really be? Is that
the fairness of your countrymen of which you have
spoken to me ? "

This much, in all the complicated tangle of the
Moorish situation, is clear the Sultan has come to
the end of his resources. Though he were a far
stronger man than he is he could not look to
administrate his country without collecting his

330 MOROCCO

revenues. The opinion of those most concerned and
most capable of knowing is that the present Sultan
never will be able to do this. For the collection of
revenues and the maintenance of law and order in
Morocco two things are necessary armed force
(which cannot exist without money) and spiritual
prestige. Abd el Aziz has lost all that he ever had of
either. One states the fact with the more regret
because he has proved himself an amiable, kindly,
merciful young man, who desires the happiness of his
people and has a strong bent in the direction of
modern innovations and progress. But it is a fact,
none the less, and a fact that Europe (and especially
France and England) has no right to turn its back
upon. There are a good many reasons which go to
make it certain that France will not ignore this
regrettable fact. There are at least two good reasons
which ought to prevent Britain ignoring it : one is
that she is largely responsible for the Sultan's present
unfortunate position ; the other is that Britain cannot
afford to let France have a free hand in Morocco,
which is what France will have failing British inter-
vention. It has been stated in France that in the
event of a French protectorate being established in
Morocco Britain might rest assured that the ports
should remain neutral. But of what earthly use
would be neutral ports, or any other sort of ports,
with a closed door behind them, or, in the event of
war, a hostile hinterland. Merchants do not want to
supply goods to the beaches of Morocco, but to the
country. And, in the event of sudden stress of
circumstances, not to speak of the steady strain of
peaceful commercial enterprise, how long might
France be expected to respect the neutrality of the

THE PRESENT SITUATION

331

Moorish ports if the hinterland were in her posses-
sion ? History supplies a definite answer to this
question.

Again, there has been mooted the suggestion o a
dual control of Morocco, and it has been argued that
as Britain invited the co-operation of France in
Egypt, so we should ask France now to join in a dual
protectorate and administration of Morocco. Such a
policy as this, almost any policy, perhaps, were pre-
ferable to the simple attitude of laisser faire, but in
the light of past happenings and present French
ambitions the idea of a dual control seems rather
hopeless. The French socialistic party would surely
oppose it as an extravagance, whilst the military and
colonial party would fight such a suggestion to the
bitter end, as being more humilating than a complete
withdrawal from Morocco.

There remains an alternative. Admitting the
urgent necessity either of actual intervention or of
such substantial assistance as no Power could be
expected to give without sooner or later claiming the
right to actual intervention, we may narrow the
possibilities down to the consideration of two powers
France and Britain. Now, unless under the pressure
of dire necessity, France will never withdraw her
pretensions in Morocco. On the other hand, without
running terrible risks,and facing certain heavy losses
of more kinds than one, Britain cannot afford to give
France an absolutely free hand in Morocco, seeing
that its shores skirt the entrance to the Mediterannean.
The neutral port suggestion is puerile and no
guarantee at all. The dual control suggestion may
fairly be dismissed, firstly as something to which
France would not be likely to agree, and secondly

332 MOROCCO

because the hopeless state of things in Egypt before
the siege of Alexandria forms an overpowering
argument against any attempt at a joint French-
English control of an Oriental country. But, putting
aside the quite futile neutral port scheme, there
remains this consideration : There already exists in
Morocco a natural boundary, which divides the
Mediterannean and Atlantic seaboards from the in-
terior and the Algerian frontier, and shuts off coastal
Morocco from the much-debated lands of the Tuat,
which France now claims the right to administrate, and
from the caravan route to the South, which France
wants to control and direct into Algeria. It that
natural boundary could be accepted by the two
Powers as dividing their spheres of influence, Morocco
might well be saved by intervention upon both sides
of the Atlas, our fairway to our Eastern possessions
might be safe-guarded, and, at the same time, French
aspirations in the direction of North African ex-
pansion and the proper protection of Algeria might
be satisfied. In these circumstances the social and
commercial development of an utterly neglected but
very rich country would be assured, and a very
present menace to the peace of Europe finally re-
moved. Humanity and justice, as well as expediency,
demand the formulation and application of some
definite policy with regard to Morocco before the
winter rains are over and the Pretender and the
young Sultan come into conflict again. Surely, in the
interests of our Empire, Britain should be well and
speedily to the fore in this matter.

But, when all is said, this is not at all the note by
which I would have you remember my book of

THE PRESENT SITUATION 333

jottings from Sunset Land. I do not pretend that
it is more than a book of jottings, and, indeed, I feel
that I owe some apology for its inconsequent character.
I cannot give you Morocco, or I would. I cannot
hope to make you feel the wonderful fascination of the
land ; but what I do hope I may have succeeded in
doing is the presentation of suggestions. A passing
hay-cart will suggest country meadows to you, on
London Bridge. I would like to think that in this
book, so full of faults and obvious shortcomings, I
may have done so much for Morocco. It is still the
land of romance. I, personally, am very grateful for
that. It is the home, not of politics but of story;
and so, before I buckle up my wallet, let me tell you
the story of an Englishman I know and Achmet, Abd
el Sadak.

*
ACHMET'S CHARM

I

MY faithful friend and one-time servant, who was
so fittingly named Achmet, Abd el Sadak
(The Slave of the True), passed away peacefully in
the ancient port of Salli, three days prior to my sail-
ing from Morocco last month may Allah have fitted
for him a most sumptuous pavilion in Paradise ! That
event, releasing me as it did from promises, is what
unlocks my lips regarding a certain notable change in
my position in the world and way of living.

I take no shame whatever in admitting that up
till the year '95 my days were needy days, and m;
life that of a plain gentleman-adventurer, possess<
of little or no capital in this world beyond such as
may be said to lie in ten active fingers, five tolerably
alert senses, and a heart not over and above suscept-
ible to the grip of fear. It is perfectly true that in
the year '94 I was posted a defaulter in the hall of
the Wayfarers' Club, owing to my inability to meet
the annual demand for subscription, But the fortune
of war is variable, and I am not aware that its buffet-
ings are any disgrace to an otherwise clean-lived man.
At all events, having said so much I have said all
that I know of that need be said with reference to the
shady side of my life's record and am unashamed.

It was in the year 1887 (in these dates I refer,
of course, to the Christian calendar and not to that
of the Faithful) that I first met my trusty friend

334

ACHMET'S CHARM 335

Achmet; and during the eight years of Eastern
wanderings which followed he was my constant and
most loyal attendant in rain and sunshine, in good
fortune and in bad. I paid for a sheep (an attenuated
beast it was, too, if I remember aright) for the feast
of his thirty-seventh birthday on the morning of our
first meeting; and he paid for my venturesomeness
in his blood upon more than one subsequent occasion.
It was during the morning of All Fools' Day, in
the year '97, that I carelessly put to Achmet the
question out of his answer to which came the greatest
adventure of my life and his. TKe sun having gained
something near to his full strength we had just
} descended from the flaky old pink roof of my house
I beside Bab el Jeed (the Gate of the Hanging) in the
I port of Salli, to the central court or patio, in which,
i with my books, and my dogs, and my cheery little
; marble fountain, I purposed passing the heat of the
day. I will here admit that I refer with some vanity
to this small abode of mine, by token that, so far as I
it have been able to ascertain, I am the only infidel-born
{j man who has been permitted to take up his residence
I within the walls of Salli, the old Moorish pirate
I stronghold, at all events during the past thirty or
: forty years. The house I purchased from Achmet's
creditors shortly after that thirty-seventh birthday of
his, when the roof that had sheltered himself and his
buccaneering fathers before him seemed likely to be
lost to him for ever. I need scarcely say that the
good man never found the door of his old home shut
to him after I obtained possession. It was there he
died, in the best room, with a goodly circle of f keehs
and holy men about his head, last month.

But with regard to my question : It was an idle

336 MOROCCO

one enough, as has been said, and one I had never
troubled to put during eight long years of vaga-
bondage here and there in my Moorish friend's com-
pany, though the subject of it had dangled before my
eyes just so often as they had chanced to rest upon
Achmet's wiry form.

' ' Good m'koddem," said I, as I rolled a cigarette
(he always liked to be addressed and thought of as
my steward or man of affairs, though Heaven knows
my affairs stood in small need of a comptroller),
1 'what might the little locket be that you wear so
constantly about your neck ? Does it by chance hold
a scrap of some ancient Kiswat, or a charm against
the Evil Eye, from which Allah preserve all
Believers ! " The Kiswat, you know, is the annually-
renewed curtain that is hung about the Ka'abah at
Mecca; a very holy fabric, strips from which are
more soothing to the fortunate possessor, because
more authentic, than the most of Christian relics.

"Nay, Sidi " the good man always called me
" Master" though he never drew wage from me
" 'tis no charm at all, if as they say a true charm must
needs come from a holy man or one greatly learned.
Natheless I would not readily part with it, Sidi, for
my father wore it before me, and laid it in my hand
but a few minutes before he departed may God have
forgiven him!" (This formal ejaculation by no
means implies any reflection upon the departed.)
" And as for how he came by it, Sidi, that is quite a
story, and an odd one to boot ; yet it was from no
great fkeeh or shareef either, but from a poor suffer-
ing cilj who was within an hour of his last gasp upon
earth."

Good Achmet loosed the little amulet from his

ACHMET'S CHARM 337

neck and gave it me to handle at my leisure. I was
a little surprised to find that it appeared to be of pure
gold, and to be decorated upon one side with "two
guns," as Moors say : that is, with the pillars of the
arms of Spain, as one sees them upon a dollar. The
obverse side was unrelieved, and the thing did not
appear to open in any way. Being fresh from a
journey and wallowing in idleness, I pressed Achmet
for the story, and this, as I remember it, was what he
told me.

" B'ism Illah ! These things happened, Sidi, in the
year 1246" (1828 A.D.), " when my father may God
have forgiven him ! was no more than a slip of a boy,
who might look unveiled women in the face without
shame. His father was Khaleefah of this our city of
Salli, under Basha Abd el Kareem, a land-loving
gentleman who never went aboard a korsan " (pirate
vessel) "in his life, and in that was unlike to most
other men of good family in Salli. Yet withal he had
his dealings with the pirates, and, as I am told, built
this very house with money so made. At all events
he was no enemy, but rather a friend to the best of
those who plied that gallant craft. But yet he was
Khaleefah, and so must needs obey the mandates of
his Basha, and through him the word of their Lord the
Sultan, Moulai Abd er- Rahman upon him the
peace ! Now you, Sidi, who are learned in books,
will know that the Sultan Moulai Abd er- Rahman
obtained the repute of being the first ruler who suc-
ceeded in putting an end to this same profession of
piracy which had for so long been held in high esteem
in Morocco. Yet, as En-Nasiri, the learned historian,
has written in his book for all men to read " (see
Kitdb el Istiksa fi Akhbdr Daul el Maghrib. Cairo,

338 MOROCCO

1895. Sid En-Nasiri died in his native town of
Salli but one month before this conversation took
place), "it was by the order of our Lord Moulai Abd
er-Rahman, and not for their own good pleasure, that
brave pirates captured those Austrian vessels in the
very year of which I speak, and thus led to the
Austrian attempt, which Allah defeated, to bombard
El Araish. But it mtist natheless be admitted that, for
good purposes of his own, the Sultan chose to obtain
the repute of one who sought to suppress piracy, and
to this end it was needful that he should deal out
pains and penalties publicly.

" Now the Sultan, being of the sacred blood, was
not minded to inflict suffering upon good Muslims and
sons of his own people. Yet an example had to be
made, and so our Lord's wise choice fell upon one
Absalaam, an English renegade whose infidel name
I know not. This afflicted one had risen to some
power and rank among the pirates, being without
doubt a most cunning sailor, and withal a brave man.
For years he had captained his own korsan, and men
said that he had wrested greater wealth from the sea-
going infidels than had all the others of his craft
together. Be that as it may, the order reached my
grandfather that Absalaam should first be forced to
yield up whatever treasure he might possess, and
then be publicly hanged at the city gate, word thereof
being sent to sundry European Bashadors " that is r
ministers or ambassadors "that they might witness
the execution, or at least know of it, and so be
satisfied that our Noble Lord was in very truth
stamping out the trade.

" Now, accordingly, my grandfather put the
question in various ways, as the custom is, with a

ACHMETS CHARM 339

view to obeying his Lord and obtaining Absalaam's
treasure before he should be hanged. But it seemed
the renegade was a hard man, and not to be moved to
speech by any ordinary application, such as the rod,
the thumb-screw, or heated irons. So, having chosen
the hook above the gate yonder, from which the
wretch was ultimately to hang, my grandfather had
Absalaam suspended there by his great toes and left
awhile to meditate with a view to confession. As you
know, the gate hath ever since been called the Gate
of the Hanging. My father told me that he, being a
gentle-natured lad, and noting that the sun shone
very hotly upon the gate, felt sad for the renegade
hanging there by his great toes. And so, when other
folk slept, during the 'hour of fire,' he crept out of
the patio here with a cup of good cool water under his
djellab, and so to the gate to moisten hanging
Absalaam's lips, over which blood and dust were
sorely caked. Even the guards were sleeping, and no
man stayed my father's hand from an act which was
doubtless pleasing to Allah. Seeing his kindly intent,
poor Absalaam gasped out, ' Put thy hand to my
mouth, good lad, and God shall reward thee ! ' So my
father put forth his hand, and out of the hanging
wretch's swollen mouth there fell this same little
lump of gold which thou hast seen upon my neck,
where it hath hung since the day on which my father
died upon him the peace ! ' Thrust it in thy purse,
lad ; give me of thy water and I will tell thee '
And that was as far as the poor fellow got with his
thanks, for at that moment my grandfather, the
Khaleefah, whose eyes were wondrous keen in affairs,
appeared at the gate and saw the cup in my father's
hand. ' Nay,' cried my father, aloud, fearing

340 MOROCCO

punishment, * I did but take a little charm from the
poor man, that he gave me from his mouth/ My
grandfather stared at this. ' What hast thou in thy
mouth, man ? ' says he to Absalaam. ' 'Tis but a
single jewel that I thought to hide, Lord/ gasped
Absalaam. ' Thrust thy finger in my mouth, Lord,
and take it ; 'tis thine. I cannot loose it.' So grand-
father thrust his finger into the wretch's mouth, and
Absalaam bit it through, ay, and well into the bone,
and choked and gasped and tried to laugh, when my
poor grandfather leaped back with a cry. By the
Prophet, he must have been a man of iron, that
renegade ! My grandfather had his eyes put out and
his hands and feet slit open that afternoon, by way of
rebuke ; and the renegade, biding silent still, was
hanged outright at sunset, and left over the gate to
bleach and for Nazarenes to see.

" * Fling his accursed charm into the sea, my son/
said the Khaleefah to my father. And ' Ihyeh/
quoth my father, as in duty bound, but flung a
pebble instead, and so kept this poor little charm, if
charm it be, till the day of his death, when piracy as
a profession had almost passed out of the minds of

men."

And so I had the history of the little amulet, and
good Achmet left me, idly tossing it in my hand, to
sally out into the Sok and do our modest day's
marketing. I sat there alone, drowsily thinking of
Salli rover lore, and of the gentle Lord Abd er-
Rahman, who pulled out the tongue of his wazeer, Si
Mohammed bin Drees, for having communicated with
the Algerian rebel, Abd el Kader. I thought of the
renegade Absalaam, mine own countryman, who had
ended his life in so parlous a state over the gate which

ACHMET'S CHARM 341

stood no more than a few yards from where I sat.
Colonel Keatings, in his account of a British embassy
in 1785 (Travels in Europe and Africa. London,
1816), said that an English renegade built the great
aqueduct that brought water to my door there in
Salli, from Ismir, ten miles distant. The gallant
Colonel was misinformed, I thought, but there was
every reason to believe that the task of repairing it
was entrusted to an English renegade. I wondered
idly if the unfortunate Absalaam had any hand in
that. Again I examined the gold amulet, and
wondered that a thing made in the shape of a locket
should have no opening in it. And then I fell
asleep. The April sun is hot in Salli town.

Half an hour later I awoke, and my eyes fell upon
my sloghi bitch, Jinny, where she lay stretched beside
the fountain, nosing at some small object between her
front paws. " What have you got there, Jinny ? "
said I, lazily. At the sound of my voice the" bitch
rose, stretched her sinewy frame to its full length, and
walked slowly to my side. Then I saw that the toy
of her idleness was Achmet's gold amulet, which lay
there now, on the flags, an open locket, and showing
what appeared to be a folded parchment inside it.

"Like my carelessness!" I muttered, as I leaned
forward to recover the amulet. " But I wonder how
in the world the bitch found a way of opening the
thing ! " Examination showed me that the locket was
most delicately contrived, its spring and hinge being
both hidden by a sort of rolled border or beading,
which also hid effectually the line of division between
the two halves. Achmet had told me that it did not
open, or at least that he had never tried to open it,
having always thought of it as being solid. So here,

342 MOROCCO

I thought, as I carefully unrolled the little slip of
parchment, is a document of at least seventy years
ago, that was carefully preserved in the mouth of a
dying renegade. I chuckled over my find. " This is
history," I told myself. " State secrets, no doubt;
pirate lore treasure- trove."

And with that I stopped chuckling, and a sudden
hot eagerness came over me to know what the parch-
ment might contain. I can hardly tell you what I
thought, but I became serious and eager. I re-
member a jumble of passing ideas about cryptograms,
cyphers, and acrostics tripping one over the other in
my mind ; and then I had the little parchment spread
fairly upon my knee. One side of it was raggedly
torn, as it might be that the whole had proved too
bulky for its hiding-place. The rest bore this
message, written fairly enough, in the old style of
sloping caligraphy, with long " S's," and some quaint-
ness of spelling, and some incorrectness, but nothing
in the least degree cryptic. It might have been the
casual memorandum of a man of business.

"No. 2. Ismir aqueduct. Three lanyards south,
two and half east under furthest edge sacred shadow
five spans. ABSALAAM."

And that was absolutely all.

I was still poring over the simple words written so
fairly, and in my own tongue, when Achmet returned
from the S6k, and stood a moment dumbfoundered
at the sight of his little charm lying split in sunder as
it appeared on the stool beside me. I explained the
discovery which Jinny had made, and showed Achmet
the ragged little bit of parchment. At first sight oi

ACHMET'S CHARM 343

the parchment I noted a sudden glitter in the eyes
of my friend. When he asked me to translate its
message to him there came for one instant an ex-
pression in those eyes which I had never seen before.
He confessed it later, with an approach to tears. For
one fleeting moment his heart harboured suspicion
and resentment where his infidel friend was con-
cerned ; the attributes which a notable Nazarene,
Cardinal Newman to wit, has told us do not pertain to
the man who deserves the name of gentleman. But
his peculiar knowledge of the circumstances made him
see farther into the matter than I could upon short
notice ; and, in any case, his suspicion was not more
than momentary.

" And what think you that it may mean, friend ? "
I asked, when, for privacy, we had retired to an upper
room and spread the little parchment upon a stool
between us.

Achmet turned his two hands palms uppermost.
" Sidi," said he, " there is no room here for a man to
hazard guesses or cherish doubts. I ask thee, Sidi,
for what was the renegade seized in the first
place ? "

"Why, because he was a successful pirate and
piracy was to be put down if I have understood your
story rightly."

" It is most right, Sidi. And for why was my
grandfather may God have pardoned him ! obliged
to hang this same renegade at first by his great toes,
instead of by his neck, as the custom is in such
matters ? "

" Ah ! His hidden treasure ? "

" Ihyeh ! And being stripped of all that men
could see belonging to him, even to his littlest gar-

344 MOROCCO

ment, and hung by his toes before the city gate, what
one thing did this renegade cherish ay, almost to the
hour of his end, yielding it up only when certain and
speedy death faced him, and then to a lad whom he
wished to thank one whom he saw coming to allevi-
ate some small portion of his pains ? "

" True, true," I admitted in some excitement at
finding my own eager thoughts exactly borne out by
one to whom the circumstances were all known.
11 And to think that for seventy years, or close on, it
has lain on thy neck, and thy father's before thee, and
never a thought given to its value, nor even to
whether it opened or no ! "

" Ihyeh, Sidi, we are but slaves of the All-know-
ing; slaves and little children in His hand. Dost
remember when thy good grey mule fell lame on that
ill-starred journey to Taradunt, Sidi ? " I nodded.
" Ihyeh, well, I did not tell thee, for we had troubles
enough and to spare, but the night before I had lost
this same little treasure-chamber which thou hast
opened lost it most fatally. Indeed, and it was then
when I noted the good mule growing lamer at every
step, that I first began to think seriously of the virtu<
which may have lain in my lost charm."

"H'm! Little thinking what really lay in it," I
muttered.

" Little thinking, as thou sayest, Sidi. Yet had
some good Djinn a care of my fingers I think, for at
first blink of light next day I did come upon my little
amulet, and where, think ye, but in the bottom of the
basket in which I had given thy good grey mule her
barley. The poor beast having sickened, as we had
cause to know, thou and I, the half of her feed was
left, and as I ran my fingers through it, seeking to

ACHMET'S CHARM 345

tempt her 'Aha! A stone/ says I. And lo, there
was my little amulet among the barley."

"So a mule came near to eating it that day, O
Achmet, and to-day the bitch there came nearer still
to destroying the treasure in it."

"Ihyeh, the master-works of Allah!" ejaculated
my friend with pious fervour. And then we fell to
discussing the document before us. Round and
about it we cast our suggestions and hints, some
foolish and some shrewd, all sanguine, and a few
that were directly to the point. At length, mere
discussion proving unsatisfactory to me, I rose and
moved to the doorway, Achmet following.

" See, my friend," said I, " this house hath
become too small for me. How say you ? "

" Sidi, its smallness hath cramped me sorely
these several minutes now. But "

"Ay, my tent, good Achmet ; the mules, a little
food, the guns, and some few tools such as farmers
use ; my tent pitched, let us say near the end of the
great aqueduct at Ismir, before the sun goeth down
this night will not that give us more of room and
peace ? "

"Sidi, thy mind moves swiftly. Ismir? Ihyeh !
All shall be as thou sayest. Look for me, Sidi, with
all things prepared in one hour."

It was as though an Englishman were to say
" In a couple of minutes," and if achieved in Morocco
would be little short of a miracle. But, seeing the
light in Achmet's eyes, I had faith (which the event
justified) and waited. Within an hour we were
perched atop of bulging shwarries borne by two quick-
stepping pack-mules which I had bought in Fez and
valued highly, and before sunset we were eating our

346 MOROCCO

evening meal at the mouth of my tent, our mules
tethered beside us, and the end of the great aqueduct,
which Moors say the Romans built, no more than a
few hundred paces distant from us. We both knew
by heart now the words upon our parchment, and so,
whilst discussing it, had no need to refer to the
document itself.

" No. 2. Ismir aqueduct. Three lanyards south,
two and half east under furthest edge sacred shadow
five spans. ABSALAAM."

" No. 2" referred to the object of our search, the
treasure, or whatever it might be; so much seemed
clear to me, and at that time I had no thought to
spare for what No. i might be. The more I thought
upon the few simple words of the parchment, the
more convinced I became that it contained no inten-
tional mystification, but was simply a memorandum
made for the convenience of the writer, and as a safe-
guard against any trick of memory. " Ismir
aqueduct " I took to point plainly to the end of the
aqueduct, its starting-point here at Ismir. From that
end, I thought, one must proceed " three lanyards
south " and " two and half east," and there find a spot
marked by a "sacred shadow." The reference to
a shadow was so far puzzling, but I thought there
would be time enough to deal with that when we had
discovered the spot referred to. My immediate con-
cern was to know what " lanyards " might mean.
And here, of course, my friend Achmet could be of
no service to me. For all his knowledge of the
circumstances he was quite helpless where our
document was concerned, knowing no word of the
tongue in which it was written.

The only kind of " lanyard" within my ken was

ACHMET'S CHARM 347

the sort of necklace of white cord which sailors wear
about their necks bearing a knife or whistle. I have
since learned that there are scores of different sorts
of lanyards, but all I knew then was that as an infant
I had gone clad as a man-o'-war's man in little, and
had grandiloquently called the cord about my then
innocent neck a lanyard. Then the length of a
lanyard, I assumed, was from one to two feet.
"Three lanyards south, two and a half east" say
five feet one way and four another. Heavens! We
were probably standing on the very spot !

Within a very few moments Achmet and myself
were at work with mattock and bar, as busy as terriers
in a warren. The ground was fairly soft there, and
we soon had a trench of twice five spans in depth,
and never so much as a piece of scrap iron for our
pains. Nothing, absolutely, but sandy earth ; and
when dark fell we climbed out of our pit in despair,
and made tea to aid reflection withal. I was con-
vinced by this time that we had failed to grasp the
true meaning of our parchment. The " lanyards,"
that was the point that baffled me.

An hour passed while we discussed this obscure
point of the " lanyards," and that found us no nearer,
by all appearances, to any solution of the difficulty.
It was disturbing, exasperating, to feel that the
treasure, or whatever it was that this simple message
referred to, might be lying within a few yards of
where we sat, and yet so hopelessly out of our reach.
I said as much.

"Ihyeh," sighed Achmet, "this is sure enough
the place, and here sit we, idle, within a half a
tasabeeh, it may be, of great wealth."

Had he threatened my life the good Moor had

348 MOROCCO

certainly startled me less than he did in uttering these
few words. I sprang to my feet, breathless.

" A half a tasabeeh, sayest thou ? " I hissed at him.
" Nay, but three south and two and a half east.
Come ! Mark thou the tasabeeh ! "

Illumination came to Achmet in a flash, as it
should have come to me, an Englishman, in the
beginning. A tasabeeh is a Moorish rosary.
Nothing is more common than the measuring of
distances by the time occupied in pacing them,
reckoned by the fingering of a rosary. It is a matter
of every-day colloquial speech. And what more
natural than that the renegade, a sailor probably,
should call a rosary a lanyard when writing of it in
English ? It should have been plain for a child to
read, I thought.

Placing our backs against the first buttress of the
aqueduct, we referred to my pocket compass and
headed due south. Slowly and evenly, then, we paced
along in the light of a rising moon, Achmet muttering
below breath as he fingered each bead of his biscuit-
coloured rosary. This was his part. I would not
trust myself to reckon, lest the fact that I was un-
familiar with the use of the pious instrument should
lead to a miscalculation.

"Halt!" cried my friend at length. We had
covered " three lanyards" to the southward. And
now we turned slowly, my eyes glued to the compass,
until we headed due east. Then forward again,
Achmet muttering and fingering devoutly.

"Halt!" he cried again; and I found we had
reached a little hill, upon which a few stunted olives
stood among a wilderness of palmetto and aloe scrub.
My eyes had never left the compass, and the ground

ACHMET'S CHARM 349

being open, I was convinced we must have come
tolerably straightly in our course. I cut off the spear
head of an aloe and stuck it in the earth at my feet.
Then we proceeded to examine our surroundings.

"Now, friend," said I, "we seek a shadow a
1 sacred shadow.' What is there within sight that could
be sacred ? "

"Nay," said Achmet, "here are no mosques nor
shrines, nor But stay ! Unless my memory plays
me very false I have not been here since I was a
lad there is an old tomb in the hollow there, between
this little hill and the next. 'Tis not to say a shrine,
exactly, but yet it is a tomb, and Si Abd el Haneen,
who lies there may God have pardoned him ! was
doubtless a holy man enough. Ihyeh, methinks the
tomb might be called sacred like enough."

By this time we were striding down the little hill's
side ; and I promise you we paid little heed to the
razor edges of palmetto leaves, though, being in
Moorish dress, I was bare-legged, like Achmet, and
wore only heel-less slippers on my naked feet.

Three minutes brought us to the crumbling wall
of an old tomb, half hidden in prickly-pear and
palmetto. But upon one side of the tomb the ground
was bare of scrub, and there the grass showed plainly
just how far the shadow of the tomb's dome was wont
to fall by day. In a country where shade is as scarce
as it is in El Moghreb, earth and vegetation show
very clearly their appreciation of a shadow where it
does occur.

" Here, then," said I, stooping over the line of
fresh grass, "is the 'furthest edge sacred shadow/
Now, regarding the ' five spans' But, Lord ! What
are five spans ? It must mean five spans deep, or five

350 MOROCCO

spans distant from this edge of the shadow. And in
either case it is but a matter of a little digging. Ah !
what fools we were to have left our mattocks
behind ! "

One hour later found us cautiously stepping out
from our tent into the moonlight, carrying our guns
openly, as Moors are wont to carry them, and hunch-
ing under our djellabs two mattocks and the crowbar
that we kept for tent-pitching. Spades you shall noj
firfd in the Land of the Setting Sun, a circumstance I
had cause to regret before the night was out, for in
my opinion the mattock is a poor, futile sort of a tool,
in my hands at all events. But I promise you the
arms which directed those mattocks were active and
vigorous enough. Never did serf or hired labourer
delve as we delved beside old Abd el Haneen's tomb
in the light of the moon that night. The great
Moulai Ismail of pious memory was wont occasionally
to roast a few of his workpeople in lime-kilns, throw
them to hjs lions, or crush them under a falling wall
if he fancied they did not put sufficient zest into their
labours. But I greatly doubt if the most fearful
among them could have equalled our industry.

At a depth of seven spans we had found nothing.
So we began to dig outward, and away from the tomb.
Half an hour passed, and the sweat I shook from my
head, as a spaniel shakes water, splashed upon the
broken earth at my feet. At my very next stroke
the mattock rang on metal and jarred my wrist
horribly. Little I cared. I dropped the tool and
fell on my knees, scratching with both hands to feel
for what I had struck. So far as I could force my
fingers down they felt a smooth surface of metal, as
of a coffer or case of some sort.

THE AUTHOR IN MOORISH GUISE

ACHMETS CHARM 351

" El hamdu Illah!" I exclaimed with fervent
piety, or emotion of some sort. And then the words
turned to ashes in my mouth, my stomach retched
within me, and the blood ceased to travel through my
veins as a thin, strange voice above me cried,
<{ Ihyeh, God be merciful sacrilege! Eh, eh!"

It seemed to me that I got out of that hole as
quickly as mortal man might ; but Achmet, who had
not been kneeling, but only stooping, surpassed me.
His agility was really suggestive of magic. You
have my solemn word for it that, swiftly as I reached
the surface, I found that a tragedy had been enacted,
was ended and done with, and all in the moment
which I seemed to occupy in scrambling from out
that fateful hole. Achmet had felled a man to earth
with his mattock, and then, literally, pinned him to the
earth with an eighteen-inch dagger, but very slightly
curved. The fallen man was dead as Noah, and I
perceived, with an odd sort of sentimental regret, that
his hair was white and his face a gentle one.

" God forgive us, Achmet ! " I murmured, without
much relevance. "He seems a kindly-looking sort
of grandfather, too ! "

"Yeh; he's well enough/' admitted Achmet,
wiping his knife on the grass. " But there was no
place here for him. 'Tis poor fortune his visit to
this shrine has brought him may God give him
peace ! "

I thought Achmet's attitude both modest and
dignified ; and I think still that he was as agreeable a
gentleman to be killed by as you would find in a
day's march. But we are not all just prepared to die,
even at the hands of such an one as Achmet ; and so
I told myself there should be no more killing in this

352 MOROCCO

affair of ours if I could help it. I would liefer share
our secret with another, I thought, than have the
whole matter darkened by the stains of blood. But
I recognised the reasonableness of Achmet's reminder
that our work awaited us ; so, turning from the old
gentleman and his dead, kindly face, we scrambled
back into our hole.

In less than ten minutes we had entirely un-
covered an iron chest with a heavy hasp and bolt in
the middle of its lid. It struck me that in Gibraltar I
had seen heavy old shot lying in just such another
coffer as this one. Many broken thoughts struck me,
and I swore nervously when Achmet's forehead
struck mine as we both stooped to raise the lid. It
was a well-made box, and in the seventy, or eighty,
or ninety years of its rest there under the earth, no
sort of harm had come to it. The lid creaked and
groaned a little in the lifting, but yet answered its
purpose well enough, and then we saw the treasure
of Absalaam the renegade which Sultan Abd er-
Rahman had failed to see ; the key to which renegade
Absalaam had held in his poor, swollen, bloody mouth
what time he hung by the toes roasting in the noon-
day sun outside the gate of Salli town.

There was a division down the centre of the
chest, and upon one side we saw nothing but gold ;
upon the other, nothing but jewels. A sight it was
for a money-loving man to dream of; and I will
admit that for a moment or two it made me drunk, so
that I laved my arms to the elbow in guineas upon
which the moonlight showed me glimpses of the head
of George III. and again of a Spanish Queen, and
again of an eagle, and of other devices, most of which
were unfamiliar to me.

ACHMET'S CHARM 353

But we had no time to spare for dreaming. My
drunkenness passed in a moment ; and even at that
showed me a poorer creature in dignity than my friend
Achmet. Not all the jewels of India could have un-
balanced the Moor.

"We can never carry this," said he, as he might
have spoken of a sack of barley. This was the very
bracing sort of tonic that I needed. " Why, no,"
said I. "Go you back to the tents, good Achmet
wings at your heels and bring hither the mules with
shwarries."

He looked at me. " Ihyeh ; and I take care of
the old gentleman above. Go ! " At that he turned
and sped off into the night. The moon was already
low, and everything about the old tomb was very dim,
and ghostly, and shadowy now. But Achmet's nerve
and common sense had braced me finely. I dragged
the body of the poor old man into the hole that we
had first dug, and I gave him the benefit of the only
Mohammedan prayer I could recall at the moment
before I proceeded to shovel the earth over him.
For some time I tugged at the iron coffer, thinking to
have all things prepared for Achmet's return ; but
though I shifted its position somewhat I could not
raise it, and so presently gave up the attempt and sat
down upon its lid to await the coming of my partner.
It was not easy to be calm, and I longed for work for
my two hands ; their itching fingers gave me no rest,
and my mind refused to think connectedly of anything
beyond the immediate hour.

At length Achmet arrived with the mules after

making a considerable dttour to avoid the road and the

possible attention of some late wayfarer. One mule

we loaded with gold, in coins and in beaten, shapeless

z

354 MOROCCO

lumps, the whole of which we tied securely in my
great tent-bag, that thoughtful Achmet had flung into
one of the shwarries before returning to me. Then,
together, we tackled the chest itself, and without
much difficulty dragged it out from the hole. The
hole we filled as well as we could, stamping down the
earth and covering all with great armfuls of palmetto
leaves and scrub. Then we swung the coffer upon
the birda of the unladen mule, covered it with both our
djellabs, and started off for the tent, each with a hand
resting on one side of the iron chest. And behind us,
doubtless resenting this midnight occupation, plodded
the other mule, picking its own way through the night,
undriven, led by no man, a hammer-headed pack-
mule bearing in its eighteen-penny palmetto panniers
a king's ransom in minted and beaten gold.

A month later we both sailed for Hamburg. I,
as a curio-monger, was taking with me quite a little
collection of Moorish rugs and carpets, things which
do not greatly interest the Customs officials. Yet
between them please allow the words literal
significance those Rabat rugs represented a fortune
of not less than three hundred thousand pounds.
" No. 2 " satisfied me, and I have never been much
exercised in my mind as to what or where No. i
might be.

THE END

EDINBURGH

COLSTON AND COY. LIMITED
PRINTERS

A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS

PUBLISHED BY METHUEN

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CONTENTS

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GENERAL LITERATURE

5

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6 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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GENERAL LITERATURE 7

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8 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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GENERAL LITERATURE 9

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A 2

io MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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GENERAL LITERATURE 19

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20 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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24 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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GENERAL LITERATURE 25

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26

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GENERAL LITERATURE

27

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28 MESSRS METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

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GENERAL LITERATURE 29

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CHATHAM. By A. S. M'Dowall. With 12 Illustrations.

ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI. By Anna M. Stoddart. With 16 Illustrations.

CANNING. By W. A. Phillips. With 12 Illustrations.

BEACONSFIELD. By Walter Sichel. With 12 Illustrations.

GOETHE. By H. G. Atkins. With 12 Illustrations.

School Examination Series

Edited by A. M. M. STEDMAN, M.A Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d.
FRENCH EXAMINATION PAPERS. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Thirteenth Edition.

A KEY, issued to Tutors and Private Students only to be had on application to the

Publishers. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. net.
LATIN EXAMINATION PAPERS. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Twelfth Edition.

KEY {Fourth Edition) issued as above. 6s. net.
GREEK EXAMINATION PAPERS. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Seventh Edition.

KEY (Second Edition) issued as above. 6s. net.
GERMAN EXAMINATION PAPERS. By R. J. Morich. Fifth Edition.

KEY (S econd Edition) issued as above. 6s. net.

HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY EXAMINATION PAPERS. By C. H. Spence, M.A. Second Edition.
PHYSICS EXAMINATION PAPERS. By R. E. Steel, M.A., F.C.S.

GENERAL KNOWLEDGE EXAMINATION PAPERS. By A. M. M. Stedman, M.A. Fourth
Edition.

KEY ( Third Edition) issued as above. 7*. net.
EXAMINATION PAPERS IN ENGLISH HISTORY. By J. Tait Plowden-Wardlaw, B.A.

Social Questions of To-day

Edited by H. DE B. GIBBINS, Litt.D., M.A. Crown 8vo. as. 6d.

A series of volumes upon those topics of social, economic, and industrial interest
that are foremost in the public mind.

Each volume is written by an author who is an acknowledged authority upon the
subject with which he deals.

TRADE UNIONISM NEW AND OLD. By G. Howell. Third Edition.
THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT TO-DAY. By G. J. Holyoake. Fourth Edition.
MUTUAL THRIFT. By J. Frome Wilkinson, M.A.
PROBLEMS OF POVERTY. By J. A. Hobson, M.A. Fourth Edition.
THE COMMERCE OF NATIONS. By C. F. Bastable, M.A. Third Edition.
THE ALIEN INVASION. By W. H. Wilkins, B. A.
THE RURAL EXODUS. By P. Anderson Graham.
LAND NATIONALIZATION. By Harold Cox, B.A.
A SHORTER WORKING DAY, By H. de Gibbins and R. A. Hadfield.
BACK TO THE LAND. An Inquiry into Rural Depopulation. By H. E. Moore.
TRUSTS, POOLS, AND CORNERS. By J. Stephen Jeans.
THE FACTORY SYSTEM. By R. W. Cooke-Taylor.
THE STATE AND ITS CHILDREN. By Gertrude Tuckwell.
WOMEN'S WORK. By Lady Dilke, Miss Bulley, and Miss Whitley.
SOCIALISM AND MODERN THOUGHT. By M. Kauffmann.
THE PROBLEM OF THE UNEMPLOYED. By J. A. Hobson, M.A.
LIFE IN WEST LONDON. By Arthur Sherwell, M.A. Third Edition.
RAILWAY NATIONALIZATION. By Clement Edwards.
WORKHOUSES AND PAUPERISM. By Louisa Twining.
UNIVERSITY AND SOCIAL SETTLEMENTS. By W. Reason, M.A.

Technology, Textbooks of

Edited by PROFESSOR;. WERTHEIMER, F.I.C.

Fully Illustrated.

How TO MAKE A DRESS. By J. A. E. Wood. Third Edition. Crown 8z>0. is. 6d.
CARPENTRY AND JOINERY. By F. C. Webber. TTtird Edition. Crown 8va. y. 6d.
PRACTICAL MECHANICS, By Sidney H. Wells. Second Edition. Crown 8v0. 3*. 6d.

30 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

PRACTICAL PHYSICS. By H. Stroud, D.Sc., M.A. Crown Bvo. 35. 6d.

MILLINERY, THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL. By Clare Hill. Second Edition. Crown Bvo. 2$.
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PRACTICAL CHEMISTRY. Part n. By W. French, M.A., and T. H. Boardman, M.A

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AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF TEXTILE DESIGN. By Aldred F. Barker. Demy Bvo.

7S. 6d.

BUILDERS' QUANTITIES. By H. C. Grubb. Crown Bvo. ^s. 6d.
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Edited by R. L. OTTLEY, D.D., Professor of Pastoral Theology at Oxford,
and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford.

The series is intended, in part, to furnish the clergy and teachers or students of
Theology with trustworthy Text-books, adequately representing the present position
of the questions dealt with ; in part, to make accessible to the reading public an
accurate and concise statement of facts and principles in all questions bearing on
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Third and Cheaper Edition in one Vohcme. Demy Bvo. us. 6d.
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF RELIGION. By F. B. Jevons, M.A., Litt.D. Third

Edition. Demy Bvo. jos. 6d.
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Demy Bvo. izs. 6d.
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY OF THE CREEDS. By A. E. Burn, B.D. Demy Bvo.

ios. 6d>
THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. By Alfred Caldecott, D.D.

Demy Bvo. ioi. 6d.
A HISTORY OF EARLY CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. By J. F. Bethune Baker. M.A. Demy Bvo.

ios. 6d.

Methuen's Universal Library

EDITED BY SIDNEY LEE. In Sixpenny Volumes.

MESSRS. METHUEN are preparing a new series of reprints containing both books of classical
repute, which are accessible in various forms, and also some rarer books, of which no satisfactory
edition at a moderate price is in existence. It is their ambition to place the best books of all
nations, and particularly of the Anglo-Saxon race, within the reach of every reader. All the
great masters of Poetry, Drama, Fiction, History, Biography, and Philosophy will be repre-
sented. Mr. Sidney Lee will be the General Editor of the Library, and he will contribute a
Note to each book.

The characteristics of METHUEN'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY are five :

1. SOUNDNESS OF TEXT. A pure and unabridged text is the primary object of the series,
and the books will be carefully reprinted under the direction of competent scholars from the
best editions. In a series intended for popular use not less than for students, adherence to the
old spelling would in many cases leave the matter unintelligible to ordinary readers, and, as the
appeal of a classic is universal, the spelling has in general been modernised.

2. COMPLETENESS. Where it seems advisable, the complete works of such masters as Milton
Bacon, Ben Jonson and Sir Thomas Browne will be given. These will be issued in separate
volumes, so that the reader who dc

tunityjrf acquiring ajsingle masterpiece,
nil be \

volumes, so that the reader who does not desire all the works of an author will have the oppor
tunity of acquiring a single masterpiece.

3. CHEAPNESS. The books will be well printed on good paper at a price whi
is without parallel in the history of publishing. Each volume will contain from 100 to 350 pages,
and will be issued in paper covers, Crown 8vo, at Sixpence net. In a few cases a '

hichon the whole
100 to 350 pages,
cases a long book will

and will De issued in paper covers, \_rown ovo,

be issued as a Double Volume at One Shilling net.

4. CLEARNESS OF TYPE. The type will be a very legible one.

5. SIMPLICITY. There will be no editorial matter except a short biographical and biblio-
graphical note by Mr. Sidney Le at the beginning of each vpkime.

The volumes may also be obtained in cloth at One Shilling net, or in the case of a Double
Volume at One and Sixpence net. Thus TOM JONES maybe bought in a Double paper volume
at One Shilling net, or in one cloth volume at xs. 6d. net.

The Library will be issued at regular intervals after the publication of the first six books, all
of which will be published together. Due notice will be given of succeeding issues. The orders

GENERAL LITERATURE 31

of publication will be arranged to give as much variety of subject as possible, and the volume
composing the complete works of an author will be issued at convenient intervals.

These are the early Books, all of which are in the Press.
THE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. In 10 volumes.

VOL. i. The Tempest; The Two Gentlemen of Verona; The Merry Wives of Windsor;
Measure for Measure ; The Comedy of Errors.

VOL. ii. Much Ado About Nothing ; Love's Labour's Lost ; A Midsummer Nights' Dream ;
The Merchant of Venice ; As You Like It.

VOL. in. The Taming of the Shrew ; All's Well that Ends Well ; Twelfth Night ; The

Winter's Tale.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. By John Bunyan.
THE NOVELS OF JANE AUSTEN. In 5 volumes.

VOL. i. Sense and Sensibility.
THE ENGLISH WORKS OF FRANCIS BACON, LORD VERULAM.

Vol. i. Essays and Counsels and the New Atlantis.
THE POEMS AND PLAYS OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
ON THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas a Kempis.
THE WORKS OF BEN JOHNSON. In about 12 volumes.

VOL. i. The Case is Altered ; Every Man in His Humour ; Every Man out of His Humour.
THE PROSE WORKS OF JOHN MILTON.

VOL. i. Eikonoklastes and The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates.
SELECT WORKS OF EDMUND BURKE,

Vol. i. Reflections on the French Revolution

Vol. ii. Speeches on America.
THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING.

Vol. I. Tom Jones. (Double Volume.)

Vol. n. Amelia. (Double Volume. )
THE POEMS OF THOMAS CHATTERTON. In 2 volumes.

Vol. i. Miscellaneous Poems.

Vol. ii. The Rowley Poems.

THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS. Translated by R. Graves.
THE HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE. By Edward Gibbon.

In 7 volumes.

The Notes have been revised by J. B. Bury, Litt.D.
THE PLAYS OF CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE.

Vol. i. Tamburlane the Great ; The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus.

Vol. ii. The Jew of Malta: Edward the Second ; The Massacre at Paris; The Tragedy of

Dido.

THE NATURAL HISTORY AND ANTIQUITIES OF SELBORNE. By Gilbert White.
THE COMPLETE ANGLER. In 2 volumes.

Vol. i. By Izaak Walton.

Vol. ii. Part 2, by Cotton, and Part 3 by Venables.
THE POEMS OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. In 4 volumes.

Vol. i. Alastor ; The Daemon of the World ; The Revolt of Islam, etc.
THE WORKS OF SIR THOMAS BROWNE. In 6 volumes.

Vol. i. Religio Medici and Urn Burial.
THE POEMS OF JOHN MILTON. In 2 volumes.

Vol. i. Paradise Lost.

Vol. ii. Miscellaneous Poems and Paradise Regained.
HUMPHREY CLINKER. By T. G. Smollett.
SELECT WORKS OF SIR THOMAS MORE.

Vol. i. Utopia and Poems.

THE ANALOGY OF RELIGION, NATURAL AND REVEALED. By Joseph Butler, D.D.
ON HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. By John Locke. In 3 volumes.
THE POEMS OF JOHN KEATS. In 2 volumes.
THE DIVINE COMEDY OF DANTE. The Italian Text edited by Paget Toynbee, M.A., D.Litt.

(A Double Volume.)

Westminster Commentaries, The

General Editor, WALTER LOCK, D.D., Warden of Keble College,

Dean Ireland's Professor of Exegesis in the University of Oxford.
The object of each commentary is primarily exegetical, to interpret the author's
meaning to the present generation. The editors will not deal, except very subpr-
dinately, with questions of textual criticism or philology ; but, taking the English

32 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

text in the Revised Version as their basis, they will try to combine a hearty accept-
ance of critical principles with loyalty to the Catholic Faith.
THE BOOK OF GENESIS. Edited with Introduction and Notes byS. R. Driver, D.D. Third

Edition Demy 8vo. i&r. 6<f.

THE BOOK OF JOB. Edited by E. C. S. Gibson. D.D. Second Edition. Dcmyf>vo. 6s.
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. Edited by R. B. Rackham, M.A. Demy %vo. Second and

Cheaper Edition, los. 6d.
THE FIRST EPISTLE OF PAUL THE APOSTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. Edited by H. L.

Goudge, M.A. Demy Bvo. 6s.
THE EPISTLE OF ST. JAMES. Edited with Introduction and Notes by R. J. Knowling, M.A.

Demy Bvo. 6s.

PART II. FICTION

Marie Corelli's Novels

Crown Svv. 6s. each.

A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. Twenty-Fifth Edition.

VENDETTA. Twenty-First Edition.

THELMA. Thirty-First Edition.

ARDATH: THE STORY OF A DEAD SELF. Fifteenth Edition.

THE SOUL OF LILITH. Twelfth Edition.

WORMWOOD. Fourteenth. Edition.

BARABBAS : A DREAM OF THE WORLD'S TRAGEDY. Thirty-Ninth Edition.
1 The tender reverence of the treatment and the imaginative beauty of the writing have
reconciled us to the daring of the conception. This "Dream of the. World's Tragedy"
is a lofty and not inadequate paraphrase of the supreme climax of the inspired narra-
tive.' Dublin Review.

THE SORROWS OF SATAN. Forty-Eighth Edition.

'A very powerful piece of work. ... The conception is magnificent, and is likely
to win an abiding place within the memory of man. . . . The author has immense command
of language, and a limitless audacity. . . . This interesting and remarkable romance will
live long after much of the ephemeral literature of the day is forgotten. ... A literary
phenomenon . . . novel, and even sublime.' W. T. STEAD in the Review of Reviews.

THE MASTER CHRISTIAN. [j6 s th Thousand.

1 It cannot be denied that "The Master Christian" is a powerful book ; that it is one
likely to raise uncomfortable questions in all but the most self-satisfied readers, and
that it strikes at the root of the failure of jhe Churches the decay of faith in a
manner which shows the inevitable disaster heaping up ... The good Cardinal Bonpri is a
beautiful figure, fit to stand beside the good Bishop in " Les Mise>ables." It is a book
with a serious purpose expressed with absolute unconventionality and passion . . . And this
is to say it is a book worth reading.' Examiner.

TEMPORAL PpWER: A STUDY IN SUPREMACY. [150^ Thousand.

1 It is impossible to read such a work as " Temporal Power " without becoming convinced
that the story is intended to convey certain criticisms on the ways of the world and certain
suggestions for the betterment of humanity. ... If the chief intention of the book was to
hold the mirror up to shams, injustice, dishonesty, cruelty, and neglect of conscience,
nothing but praise can be given to that intention.' Morning Post.

GOD'S GOOD MAN : A SIMPLE LOVE STORY. Sixth Edition.

Anthony Hope's Novels
Crown 8vo. 6s. each.

THE GOD IN THE CAR. Tenth Edition.

'A. very remarkable book, deserving of critical analysis impossible within our limit;
brilliant, but not superficial ; well considered, but not elaborated ; constructed with
the proverbial art that conceals, but yet allows itself to be enjoyed by readers to whom
fine literary method is a keen pleasure. The World.
A CHANGE OF AIR. Sixth Edition.

'A graceful, vivacious comedy, true to human nature. The characters are traced with a
masterly hand.' Times.
A MAN OF MARK. Fifth Edition.

'Of all Mr. Hope's books, "A Man of Mark" is the one which best compares with
The Prisoner of Zenda." 'National Observer.

FICTION

33

THE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO. Fifth Edition.

'It is a perfectly enchanting story of love and chivalry, and pure romance. The Count
is the most constant, desperate, and modest and tender of lovers, a peerless gentleman,
an intrepid fighter, a faithful friend, and a magnanimous foe.' Guardian.
PHROSO. Illustrated by H. R. MILLAR. Sixth Edition.

' The tale is thoroughly fresh, quick with vitality, stirring the blood.' St. James s Gazette.
SIMON DALE. Illustrated. Sixth Edition.

'Theie is searching analysis of human nature, with a most ingeniously constructed plot.
Mr. Hope has drawn the contrasts of his women with marvellous subtlety and delicacy.'
Times.
THE KING'S MIRROR. Fourth Edition.

1 In elegance, delicacy, and tact it ranks with the best of his novels, while in the wide
range of its portraiture and the subtilty of its analysis it surpasses all his earlier ventures. '
Spectator.
QUISANTE. Fourth Edition.

'The book is notable for a very high literary quality, and an impress of power and
mastery on every pa.x&.'Dazfy Chronicle.
THE DOLLY DIALOGUES.

W. W. Jacobs' Novels

Crown &vo. $s. 6d. each.

MANY CARGOES. Twenty-Seventh Edition.

SEA URCHINS. Eleventh Edition.

A MASTER OF CRAFT. Illustrated. Sixth Edition.

'Can be unreservedly recommended to all who have not lost their appetite for wholesome
laughter. ' Spectator.

1 The best humorous book published for many a day.' Black and White.
LIGHT FREIGHTS. Illustrated. Fourth Edition.

1 His wit and humour are perfectly irresistible. Mr. Jacobs writes of skippers, and mates,
and seamen, and his crew are the jolliest lot that ever sailed.' Daily News.

' Laughter in every page.' Daily Mail.

Lucas Malet's Novels
Croivn 82/0. 6s. each.

COLONEL ENDERBY'S WIFE. Third Edition.
A COUNSEL OF PERFECTION. New Edition.
LITTLE PETER. Second Edition. 3 s. 6d.
THE WAGES OF SIN. Fourteenth Edition.
THE CARISSIMA. Fourth Edition.
THE GATELESS BARRIER. _ Fourth Edition.

'In " The Gateless Barrier" it is at once evident that, whilst Lucas Malet has preserved
her birthright of originality, the artistry, the actual writing, is above even the high level of
the books that were born before. ' Westminster Gazette.

THE HISTORY OF SIR RICHARD CALMADY. Seventh Edition. A Limited
Edition in Two Volumes. Crown 8vo. 12*.

'A picture finely and amply conceived. In the strength and insight in which the story
has been conceived, in the wealth of fancy and reflection bestowed upon its execution,
and in the moving sincerity of its pathos throughout, "Sir Richard Calmady" must rank as
the great novel of a great writer.' Literature.

'The ripest fruit of Lucas Malet's genius. A picture of maternal love by turns tender
and terrible.' Spectator.

' A remarkably fine book, with a noble motive and a sound conclusion.' Pilat.

Gilbert Parker's Novels
Crown $>vo. 6s. each.

PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. Fifth Edition.

'Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr
Parker's style.' Daily Telegraph.
MRS. FALCHION. Fifth Edition.

' A splendid study of character.' A thenaum.
THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. Second Edition.
THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD. Illustrated. Eighth Edition.

' A rousing and dramatic tale. A book like this is a joy inexpressible.' Daily Chronicle.

34 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC : The Story of a Lost Napoleon. Fifth
Edition.

'Here we find romance real, breathing, living romance. The character of Valmond
is drawn unerringly.' Pall Mall Gazette.

AN ADVENTURER OF THE NORTH: The Last Adventures of 'Pretty Pierre.'
Third Edition.

' The present book is full of fine and moving stories of the great North.' Glasgow Herald.
THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. Illustrated. Thirteenth Edition.
' Mr. Parker has produced a really fine historical novel.' Athenaum.
4 A great book.' Black and White.

THE BATTLE OF THE STRONG : a Romance of Two Kingdoms. Illustrated. Fourth
Edition.

1 Nothing more vigorous or more human has come from Mr. Gilbert Parker than this
novel.' Literature.
THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES. Second Edition, y. 6,t.

'Unforced pathos, and a deeper knowledge of human nature than he has displayed before.'
Pall Mall Gazette.

Arthur Morrison's Novels
Crown Kvo. 6s. each.

TALES OF MEAN STREETS. Sixth Edition.

'A great book. The author's method is amazingly effective, and produces a thrilling
sense of reality. The writer lays upon us a master hand. The book is simply appalling
and irresistible in its interest. It is humorous also ; without humour it would not make the
mark it is certain to make.' World.
A CHILD OF THE JAGO. Fourth Edition.

' The book is a masterpiece." Pall Mall Gazette.
TO LONDON TOWN. Second Edition.

'This is the new Mr. Arthur Morrison, gracious and tender, sympathetic and human.'
Daily Telegraph.
CUNNING MURRELL.

' Admirable. . . Delightful humorous relief ... a most artistic and satisfactory
achievement. ' Spectator.
THE HOLE IN THE WALL. Third Edition.

'A masterpiece of artistic realism. It has a finality of touch that only a master may
command.' Daily Chronicle.

4 An absolute masterpiece, which any novelist might be proud to claim.' Graphic.
' " The Hole in the Wall" is a masterly piece of work. His characters are drawn with
amazing skill. Extraordinary power.' Daily Telegraph.

Eden Phillpotts' Novels

Crown %vo. 6s. each.

LYING PROPHETS.

CHILDREN OF THE MIST. Fifth Edition.

THE HUMAN BOY. With a Frontispiece. Fourth Edition.

'Mr. Phillpotts knows exactly what school-boys do, and can lay bare their inmost
thoughts ; likewise he shows an all-pervading sense of humour.' Academy.
SONS OF THE MORNING. Second Edition.

' A book of strange power and fascination.' Morning Post.
THE STRIKING HOURS. Second Edition.

' Tragedy and comedy, pathos and humour, are blended to a nicety in this volume.' World.
' The whole book is redolent of a fresher and ampler air than breathes in the circumscribed
life of great towns.' Spectator.
THE RIVER. Third Edition.

1 " The River" places Mr. Phillpotts in the front rank of living novelists. 'Punch.
' Since " Lorna Doone " we have had nothing so picturesque as this new romance.' Bir-
tninghatn Gazette.

1 Mr. Phillpotts's new book is a masterpiece which brings him indisputably into the front
rank of English novelists.' Pall Mall Gazette.

' This great romance of the River Dart. The finest book Mr. Eden Phillpotts has written.
Morning Post.

THE AMERICAN PRISONER. Third Edition.
THE SECRET WOMAN. Second Edition.

FICTION 35

S. Baring-Gould's Novels

Crown 87/0. 6s. each.

ARMINELL. Fifth Edition.

URITH. Fifth Edition.

IN THE ROAR OF THE SEA. Seventh

Edition.

CHEAP JACK ZITA. Fourth Edition.
MARGERY OF QUETHER. Third

Edition.

THE QUEEN OF LOVE. Fifth Edition.
JACQUETTA. Third Edition.
KITTY ALONE. Fifth Edition.
NOEMI. Illustrated. Fourth Edition.
THE BROOM-SQUIRE. Illustrated.

Fourth Edition.
DARTMOOR IDYLLS.

THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Third

Edition.
GUAVAS THE TINNER. Illustrated.

Second Edition.

RLADYS. Illustrated. Second Edition.
DOMITIA. Illustrated. Second Edition.
PABO THE PRIEST.

WINIFRED. Illustrated. Second Edition.
THE FROBISHERS.
ROYAL GEORGIE. Illustrated.
MISS QUILLET. Illustrated.
LITTLE TU'PENNY. A New Edition. 6<t.
CHRIS OF ALL SORTS.
IN DEWISLAND. Second Edition.

Robert Barr's Novels

Crown Sv0. 6s. each.

IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS. Third Edition.

' A book which has abundantly satisfied us by its capital humour. ' Daily Chronicle.
THE MUTABLE MANY. Second Edition.

1 There is much insight in it, and much excellent humour.' Daily Chronicle.
THE VICTORS.
THE COUNTESS TEKLA. Third Edition.

'Of these mediaeval romances, which are now gaining ground, "The Countess Tekla "
is the very best we have seen.' Pall Mall Gazette.
THE LADY ELECTRA. Second Edition.
THE TEMPESTUOUS PETTICOAT.

. Maria Albanesi's Novels
Crown *&vo. 6s. each.

SUSANNAH AND ONE OTHER. Fourth Edition.
THE BLUNDER OF AN INNOCENT. Second Edition.
CAPRICIOUS CAROLINE. Second Edition.
LOVE AND LOUISA. Second Edition.
PETER, A PARASITE.

B. M. Croker's Novels

Crown %vo. 6s. each.

ANGEL. Fourth Edition. I A STATE SECRET. Third Edition.

PEGGY OF THE BARTONS. Sixth Edit. JOHANNA. Second Edition.

THE OLD CANTONMENT. | THE HAPPY VALLEY. Second Edition.

J. H. Findlater's Novels

Crown %vo. 6s. each.

THE GREEN GRAVES OF BALGOWRIE. Fifth Edition.

Mary Findlater's Novels

Crown 82/0. 6s.

A NARROW WAY. Third Edition. I THE ROSE OF JOY. Second Edition.

OVER THE HILLS.

Eobert Hichens' Novels
Crown Svo. 6s. each.

THE PROPHET OF BERKELEY SQUARE. Second Edition

TONGUES OF CONSCIENCE. Second Edition.

FELIX. Fourth Edition.

THE WOMAN WITH THE FAN. Fifth Edition.

BYEWAYS. 3*. &&

THE GARDEN OF ALLAH Seventh Edition.

MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

Henry James's Novels

Crown fyvo. 6s. each.

THE SOFT SIDE. Second Edition. \ THE AMBASSADORS. Second Edition.

THE BETTER SORT. | THE GOLDEN BOWL.

Mary E. Mann's Novels
Crown 8v0. 6s. each.

OLIVIA'S SUMMER. Second Edition.
A LOST ESTATE. A New Edition.
THE PARISH OF HILBY. A New

Edition.

*THE PARISH NURSE.
GRAN'MA'S JANE.
MRS. PETER HOWARD.

A WINTER'S TALE. A New Edition.

ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS. A New
Edition.

THERE WAS ONCE A PRINCE. Illus-
trated. 3.9. 6d.

WHEN ARNOLD COMES HOME. Illus-
trated. -3,s. 6d.

W. Pett Ridge's Novels
Crown %>vo. 6s. each.

LOST PROPERTY. Second Edition.

ERB. Second Edition.

A SON OF THE STATE. 35. 6d.

A BREAKER OF LAWS. 3*. f>d.
MRS. GALER'S BUSINESS.
SECRETARY TO BAYNE, M.P. $s. 6d.

Adeline Sergeant's Novels

Crown &vo. 6s. each.
THE MASTER OF BEECHWOOD.
BARBARA'S MONEY. Second Edition.
ANTHEA'S WAY.
THE YELLOW DIAMOND. Second

Edition.
UNDER SUSPICION.

THE LOVE THAT OVERCAME.

THE ENTHUSIAST.

ACCUSED AND ACCUSER. Second

Edition.

THE PROGRESS OF RACHEL.
THE MYSTERY OF THE MOAT.

".rown 8vo. 6s. See also Shil-

Albanesi (E. Maria). See page 35.

Anstey (F.), Author of 'Vice Versa.' A BAYARD FROM BENGAL. Illustrated by
BERNARD PARTRIDGE. Third Edition. Crown Bvo. y. 6</.

Bacheller (Irving), Author of ' Eben Holden.' DARREL OF THE BLESSED ISLES
Third Edition. Crown 8v0. 6s.

BagOt (Richard). A ROMAN MYSTERY. Third Edition. Crownlvo. 6s.

BalfOUr (Andrew). See Shilling Novels.

Baring-Gould (S-). See page 35 and Shilling Novels.

Barlow (Jane). THE LAND OF THE SHAMROCK. C*
ling Novels.

BaiT (Robert). See page 35 and Shilling Novels.

Begbie (Harold). THE ADVENTURES OF SIR JOHN SPARROW. Crown too. 6s.

BellOC (Hilaire). EMMANUEL BURDEN, MERCHANT. With 36 Illustrations by
G. K. CHESTERTON. Second Edition. Crown &vo. 6s.

Benson (E. F.). See Shilling Novels.

Benson (Margaret). SUBJECT TO VANITY. Crown too. y.6d.

Besant (Sir Walter). See Shilling Novels.

Bowles (C. Stewart). A STRETCH OFF THE LAND. Crown too. 6s.

Bullock (Shan. F.). THE SQUIREEN. Crown too. 6s.

THE RED LEAGUERS. Crown too. 6s.
See also Shilling Novels.

Burton ( J. BlOUndelle). THE YEAR ONE : A Page of the French Revolution. Illus-
trated. Crown Svo. 6s.

THE FATE OF VALSEC. Crown too. 6s.

A BRANDED NAME. Crown too. 6s.
See also Shilling Novels.

Capes (Bernard), Author of 'The Lake of Wine.' THE EXTRAORDINARY CON-
FESSIONS OF DIANA PLEASE. Third Edition. Crown B-vo. 6s.

Chesney (Weatherby). THE BAPTST RING. Crown too. 6s.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE GREAT EMERALD. Crown Svt. 6s.

FICTION 37

THE MYSTERY OF A BUNGALOW. Second Edition. Cream too. 6s.

Clifford (Hugh). A FREE LANCE OF TO-DAY. Crown too. 6s.

Clifford (Mrs. W. K.). See also Shilling Novels and Books for Boys and Girls.

Cobb (Thomas). A CHANGE OF FACE. Crown too. 6s. '

Cobban ( J. Maclaren). See Shilling Novels.

Corelli (Marie). See page 32.

Cotes (Mrs. Everard). See Sara Jeannette Duncan.

Cotterell (Constance). THE VIRGIN AND THE SCALES. Crown Bvo. 6s.

Crane (Stephen) and Barr (Robert). THE O'RUDDY. Crown too. 6s.

Crockett (S. R.), Author of 'The Raiders,' etc. LOCHINVAR. Illustrated. Second

Edition. Crown too. 6s.

THE STANDARD BEARER. Cr(nvn too. 6s.
Croker (B. M.). See pa^a 35 .

Dawson(A. J.). DANIEL WHYTE. Crown too. y. 6<t.

Doyle (A. Conan), Author of 'Sherlock Holmes,' 'The White Company,' etc. ROUND

THE RED LAMP. Ninth Edition. Crown too. 6s.
Duncan (Sara Jeannette) (Mrs. Everard Cotes). THOSE DELIGHTFUL AMERI.

CANS. Illustrated. Third Edison. Crown too. 6s.
THE POOL IN THE DESERT. Crown too. 6s.
A VOYAGE OF CONSOLATION. Crown too. 3 s. 6d.
Findlater ( J. H.). See page 35 and Shilling Novels.

Findlater (Mary). See page 35.

FitZpatrick(K) THE \VEANS AT ROWALLAN. Illustrated. Croivntoo. 6s.

FitZStephen (Gerald). MORE KIN THAN KIND. Crowntoo. 6s.

Fletcher (J. S.). LUCIAN THE DREAMER. Crown too. 6s.

T>AVID MARCH. Crown too. 6s.

Francis (M. E.). See Shilling Novels.

Fraser (Mrs. Hugh), Author of 'The Stolen Emperor.' THE SLAKING OF THE

SWORD. Crowntoo. 6s.

GaUon (Tom), Author of 'Kiddy.' RICKERBY'S FOLLY. Crowntoo. 6s.
Gerard (Dorothea), Author of 'Lady Baby.' THE CONQUEST OF LONDON.

Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.

HOLY MATRIMONY. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s.
MADE OF MONEY. Crown too. 6s.
THE BRIDGE OF LIFE. Crowntoo. 6s.

Gerard (Emily). THE HERONS' TOWER. Crown too. 6s.
GiSSing (George), Author of 'Demos,' 'In the Year of Jubilee,' etc. THE TOWN

TRAVELLER. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s.
THE CROWN OF LIFE. Crown, too. 6s.

GlanvUle (Ernest). THE INCA'S TREASURE. Illustrated. Crmvn too. y. 6d.
Gleig (Charles). BUNTER'S CRUISE. Illustrated. Crowntoo. -is. 6d.
GOSS (C. F.). See Shilling Novels.

Herbertson (Agnes G.). PATIENCE DEAN. Crown too. 6s.
Hichens (Robert). See page 35.

Hobbes (John Oliver), Author of 'Robert Orange.' THE SERIOUS WOOING.

Crmvn too. 6s.

Hope (Anthony). See page 32.

Hough (Emerson). THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE. Illustrated. Crown too. 6s.
Hyne (C. J. CutCliffe), Author of 'Captain Kettle.' MR. HORROCKS, PURSER.

Third Edition. Crown too. 6s.
Jacobs (W. W.). See page 33.

James (Henry). See page 3 6.

Janson (Gustaf). ABRAHAM'S SACRIFICE. Crown too. 6s.

Keays(H. A. Mitchell). HE THAT EATHETH BREAD WITH ME. Crown too. 6s.

Lawless (Hon. Emily). See Shilling Novels.

Lawson (Harry), Author of 'When the Billy Boils.' CHILDREN OF THE BUSH.

Crown too. 6s.

Levett- YeatS (S.). ORRAIN. Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.
Linden (Annie). A WOMAN OF SENTIMENT. Crowntoo. 6s.
Linton (E. Lynn). THE TRUE HISTORY OF JOSHUA DAVIDSON, Christian and

Communist. Twelfth Edition. Medium too. 6d.
Long (J. Luther), Co- Author of ' The Darling of the Gods.' MADAME BUTTERFLY.

Crown too. 35. 6d.
SIXTY JANE . Crowntoo. 6s.
Lyall (Edna). DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. 4*nd Thousand. Cr. too. 3*. 6d.

38 MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

M'Carthy (Justin H.), Author of ' If I were King. 1 THE LADY OF LOYALTY HOUSE.

Third Edition. Crown Bvo. 6s.
THE DRYAD. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Mackie (Pauline Bradford). THE VOICE IN THE DESERT. Crown too. 6s.
Macnaughtan (S.). THE FORTUNE OF CHRISTINA MACNAB. Third Edition.

Crown too. 6s.

Malet (Lucas). See page 33.
Mann (Mrs. M. E.). See page 36.

Marriott (Charles), Author of The Column. GENEVRA. Second Edition. Cr. too. 6s.
Marsh (Richard). THE TWICKENHAM PEERAGE. Second Edition. Crowntoo. 6s.
A METAMORPHOSIS. Crown too. 6s.
GARNERED. Crown too. 6s.
A DUEL. Crowntoo. 6s.
Mason (A, E. W.), Author of ' The Courtship of Morrice Buckler,' ' Miranda of the Balcony,

etc. CLEMENTINA. Illustrated. Crown too. Second Edition. 6s.
Mathers (Helen), Author of 'Comin' thro' the Rye.' HONEY. Fourth Edition.

Crown too. 6s.

GRIFF OF GRIFFITHSCOURT. Crown too. 6s.
Meade (L. T.). DRIFT. Cro^vn too. 6s.
RESURGAM. Crown too. 6s.

Meredith (Ellis). HEART OF MY HEART. Crown too. 6s.
' MiSS MoUy ' (The Author of). THE GREAT RECONCILER. Crown too. 6s.
Mitford (Bertram). THE SIGN OF THE SPIDER. Illustrated. Sixth Edition

Crown too. 3$. 6d.

IN THE WHIRL OF THE RISING. Third Edition. Crown too. 6s.
THE RED DERELICT. Crown too. 6s.
Montresor (F. F.), Author of 'Into th Highways and Hedges. 1 THE ALIEN. Third

Edition. Crown too. 6s.

Morrison (Arthur). See page 34.

Nesbit (E.). (Mrs. E. Bland). THE RED HOUSE. Illustrated. Fourth Edition.

Crown too. 6s.

THE LITERARY SENSE. Crown too. 6s.
NoiTiS (W. E.). THE CREDIT OF THE COUNTY. Illustrated. Second Edition.

Crown too. 6s.

THE EMBARRASSING ORPHAN. Crown too. 6s.
NIGEL'S VOCATION. Crown too. 6s.
LORD LEONARD THE LUCKLESS. Crown too. 6s.
BARHAM OF BELTANA. Crown too. 6s.
Oliphant (Mrs.)- See Shilling Novels.
OllrVant (Alfred). OWD BOB, THE GREY DOG OF KENMUIR. Seventh Edition.

Crown too. 6s.

Oppenheim (E Phillips). MASTER OF MEN. Third Edition. Crown too. 6s.
Oxenham (John), Author of 'Barbe of Grand Bayou.' A WEAVER OF WEBS.

Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.
THE GATE OF THE DESERT. Crown too. 6s.
Pain (Barry). THREE FANTASIES. Crown too. is.
LINDLEY KAYS. Third Edition. Crown too. 6s.

Parker (Gilbert). See page 03.

Pemberton (Max). THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE. Illustrated. Third Edition.

Crown too. 6s.
I CROWN THEE KING. With Illustrations by Frank Dadd and A. Forrestier.

Crown too. 6s.

Penny (Mrs. F. E.). See Shilling Novels.
PhillpOttS (Eden). See page 34..and Shilling Novels.

Pickthall (Marmaduke). SAID THE FISHERMAN. Fifth Edition. Crown too. 6s.
*BRENDLE. Crown too. 6s.

"Pryce (Richard). WINIFRED MOUNT. A New Edition. Crowntoo. 6s.
Q/ Author of 'Dead Man's Rock.' THE WHITE WOLF. Second Edition. Crown

Qneuz (W. le). THE HUNCHBACK OF WESTMINSTER. Third Edition. Crown

too. 6s.

THE CLOSED BOOK. Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW. Illustrated. Crown too. 6s.
Rhys (Grace). THE WOOING OF SHEILA. Second Edition. Croivntoo. 6s.
THE PRINCE OF LISNOVER. Crown too. Cs.

FICTION

39

Rhys (Grace) and Another. THE DIVERTED VILLAGE. With Illustrations by

DOROTHY GWYN JEFFREYS. Crown 8vo. 6s.
Ridge (W. Pett). See page 36.

Ritchie (Mrs. David Q.). THE TRUTHFUL LIAR. Crown Zvo. 6s.
Roberts (C. G. D.). THE HEART OF THE ANCIENT WOOD. Crown BVA 3 s.6J.
*RobertSOn (Frances Forbes). THE TAMING OF THE BRUTE. Crown too. 6s.
Russell (W. Clark). MY DANISH SWEETHEART. Illustrated. Fourth Edition

Crown Zvo. 6s.

ABANDONED. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
HIS ISLAND PRINCESS. Illustrated. Crown 6vo. 6s.

Sergeant (Adeline). See page 36.

Shannon (W. F.). THE MESS DECK. Crown 8vo. 3 s. 6d.
JIM TWELVES. Second Edition. Crown %vo. js. 6d.

Sonnichsen (Albert). DEEP SEA VAGABONDS, crown s w . 6*.

Stringer (Arthur). THE SILVER POPPY. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Sutherland (Duchess Of). See Shilling Novels.

Swan (Annie). See Shilling Novels.

Tanqueray (Mrs. B. M.). THE ROYAL QUAKER. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Thompson (Vance). SPINNERS OF LIFE. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Waineman (Paul). BY A FINNISH LAKE. Crown 8vo. 6s.

THE SONG OF THE FOREST. Crown Svo. 6s. See also Shilling Novels.

Watson (H. B. Marriott). ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS. Crown ^vo. 6s.

CAPTAIN FORTUNE. Second Edition. CrownZvo. 6s.

WellS (H. G.) THE SEA LADY. Crown too. 6s.

Weyman (Stanley), Author of 'A Gentleman of France.' UNDER THE RED ROBE

With Illustrations by R. C. WOODVILLE. Eighteenth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
White (Stewart E.). Author of ' The Blazed Trail.' CONJUROR'S HOUSE. A Romance

of the Free Trail. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.
White (Percy). THE SYSTEM. Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.
Williamson (Mrs. C. N.), Author of 'The Barnstormers.' PAPA. Second Edition.

Crown 8v<?. 6s.

THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCESS SYLVIA. Crown too. 3 s. 6d.
THE WOMAN WHO DARED. Crown too. 6s.
THE SEA COULD TELL. Second Edition. Crown too. 6s.
THE CASTLE OF THE SHADOWS. Crown too. 6s.
Williamson (C. N. and A. M.). THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR : Being the

Romance of a Motor Car. Illustrated. Tenth Edition. Crown too. 6s.
THE PRINCESS PASSES. Illustrated. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.

Methuen's Shilling Novels

Cloth, is. net.

ENCOURAGED by the great and steady sale of their Sixpenny Novels, Messrs. Methuen have
determined to issue a new series of fiction at a low price under the title of ' METHUEN'S SHILLING
NOVELS.' These books are well printed and well bound in clotk, and the excellence of their
quality may be gauged from the names of those authors who contribute the early volumes of
the series.

Messrs. Methuen would point out that the books are as good and as long as a six shilling
novel, that they are bound in cloth and not in paper, and that their price is One Shilling net.
They feel sure that the public will appreciate such good and cheap literature, and the books can
be seen at all good booksellers.
The first volumes are

Adeline Sergeant. A GREAT LADY.

Richard Marsh. MARVELS AND MYSTERIES.

Tom Gallon. RICKERBY'S FOLLY.

H. B. Marriott-Watson. THE SKIRTS OF HAPPY CHANCE.

Bullock (Shan F.). THE BARRYS.

THE CHARMERS.

Gissing (George). THE CROWN OF LIFE.

Francis (M. E.). MISS ERIN.

Sutherland (Duchess of). ONE HOUR AND THE NEXT.

Burton (J. Bloundelle). ACROSS THE SALT SEAS.

Oliphant (Mrs.). THE PRODIGALS.

Balfour (Andrew). VENGEANCE IS MINE.

40

MESSRS. METHUEN'S CATALOGUE

BaiT (Robert), Author of ' The Countess Tekla. THE VICTORS.

Penny (Mrs. F. A.). A MIXED MARRIAGE.

Hamilton (Lord Ernest). MARY HAMILTON.

Glanville (Ernest). THE LOST REGIMENT.

Benson (E. F.), Author of ' Dodo.' THE CAPSINA.

GOSS (C. F.). THE REDEMPTION OF DAVID CORSON.

Findlater (J. H.), Author of 'The Green Graves of Balgowrie. 1 A DAUGHTER OF

STRIFE.

Cobban, (J. M.) THE KING OF ANDAMAN.
Clifford (Mrs. W. K.). A WOMAN ALONE.
PMllpotts (Eden). FANCY FREE.

Books for Boys and Girls.

Crown 8vo. 5-. 6d.

THE GETTING WELL OF DOROTHY. By Mrs.
W. K. Clifford. Illustrated by Gordon-
Browne. Second Edition.

THE ICELANDER'S SWORD. By S. Baring-
Gould.

ONLY A GUARD-ROOM DOG. By Edith E.
Cuthell.

THE DOCTOR OF THE JULIET. By Harry
Collingwood.

LITTLE PETER. By Lucas Malet. Second
Edition.

By W.

By

MASTER ROCKAFELLAR'S VOYAGE.

Clark Russell.
THE SECRET OF MADAME DE MONI.UC.

the Author of " Mdlle. Mori."
SYD BELTON : Or, the Boy who would not go

to Sea. By G. Manville Fenn.
THE RED GRANGE. By Mrs. Molesworth.
A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE. By L. T. Meade.
HEPSY GIPSY. By L. T. Meade. 2*. 6d.
THE HONOURABLE Miss. By L. T. Mead?.

The Novels of Alexandre Dumas.

Price 6d. Double Volume, is.

MUSKETEERS. With a long I Illustrated Edition,

by Andrew Lang. Double

I THFC THREE MUSKETEERS. Illustrated

THE THREE

Introduction

volume.

THE PRINCE OF THIEVES. Second Edition.
ROBIN HOOD. A Sequel to the above.
THE CORSICAN BROTHERS.
GEORGES.

CROP-EARED JACQUOT; JANE; Etc.
TWENTY YEARS AFTER. Double volume.
AMAURY.

THE CASTLE OF EPPSTEIN.
THE SNOWBALL, and SULTANETTA.
CECILE; OK. THE WEDDING GOWN.
ACTE.

THE BLACK TULIP.
THE VICOMTE UE BRAGELONNE.

Part i. Louis de la Valliere. Double

Volume.
Part ii. The Man in the Iron Mask.

Double Volume.
THE CONVICT'S SON.
THE WOLF-LEADER.
NANON; OR, THB WOMEN'S WAR. Double

volume.

PAULINE; MURAT; AND PASCAL BRUNO.
THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN PAMPHILE.
FERNANDK.
GABRIEL LAMBERT.
THE REMINISCENCES OF ANTONY.
CATHERINE BLUM.
THE CHEVALIER D'HARMENTAL.
SYLVANDIRE.
THE FENCING MASTER.

'CONSCIENCE.

*THE REGENT'S DAUGHTER. A Sequel to j
Chevalier d'Harmental.

in

Colour by Frank Adams. 2s. 6d.
THE PRINCE OF THIEVES. Illustrated in

Colour by Frank Adams, is.
ROBIN HOOD THE OUTLAW. Illustrated in

Colour by Frank Adams, zs.
THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. Illustrated in

Colour by A. M. M'Lellan. is. 6rf.
FERNANDE. Illustrated in Colour by Munro

Orr.
THE BLACK TULIP. Illustrated in Colour by

A. Orr.
GEORGES. Illustrated in Colour by Munro Orr.

2S.

TWENTY YEARS AFTER. Illustrated in Colour
by Frank Adams. 3$.

AMAURY. Illustrated in Colour by Gordon
Browne, as.

THE SNOWBALL, and SULTANETTA. Illus-
trated in Colour by Frank Adams, ys.

*THE VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE. Part j.
Illustrated in Colour by Frank Adams.

*CROP-EARED JACQUOT; JANE; Etc. Illus-
trated in Colour by Gordon Browne.

*TiiE CASTLE OF EPPSTEIN. Illustrated in
Colour by Stewart Orr.

*ACTE. Illustrated in Colour by Gordon
Browne.

*CECILE; OR, THE WEDDING GOWN. Illus-
trated in Colour by D. Murray Smith.

*THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN PAMPHILE.
Illustrated in Colour by Frank Adams.

*THE WOLF-LEADER. Illustrated in Colour

t>v Frank

is. 6d.

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